Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (26 page)

Marina directed him to a farmer's field about a mile away from the building. The helicopter settled unevenly on the soft ground.

"Get out," she growled.

The pilot climbed out, and Smythe relieved him of his gun. Smythe also pulled out the copilot and laid him on the dirt.

Marina took the cockpit, and Smythe sat in the back with the captive. As the helicopter lifted off, she waved to the policeman.
Be thankful you're alive,
she thought.

"That went surprisingly well," Smythe said.

She nodded. "Aaron is a genius. One more reason why I love him." She flew north and continued to climb to higher altitudes.

"When are we doing the interrogation?"

"When that asshole wakes up. Two or three hours. It should be enough time for us to prepare properly. I'm pretty sure Aaron will want to ask the questions, so we have to wait for him to drive down here anyway."

"Hmm," Smythe said. "You know how I feel about torture."

Marina glanced at him. "This could be our best opportunity to get information. I'm not going to waste it by being soft."

He grunted.

"Check if he has a wallet," she said.

"Yes. According to his driver's license, his name is Craig Hurly."

"Great. Call Aaron and give him the information. Let's get a background check started right away. Interrogations go better when we know who we're talking to."

"Yes, ma'am," Smythe said.

* * *

General Nolan Doolittle stared out the window of the study in his home. The sun hadn't risen yet, but a hint of pink on the horizon promised it would soon. Birds had already started to chirp in anticipation of a warm day. The trees were just silhouettes in the darkness.

He rubbed his eyes. He was tired, but sleep wasn't in his plans. Today was going to be a very long, very busy day.

Apparently, he had new enemies, but this wasn't an unfamiliar experience for Doolittle. He had been an infantryman in one war, a captain in a second, a colonel in a third, and a general in a fourth. During his extended military career, he had fought every kind of battle on every kind of terrain, hot and cold, wet and dry. At this point in his life, nothing could scare him.

However, he had to admit his new enemies were a concern at least. They had penetrated and disrupted his operation without taking a single casualty. They had made his best security guards look like shopping mall rent-a-cops. The worst part was he had no idea who these enemies were. He had believed he had known all the players in the game. Every potential threat had been paid off, subverted, or otherwise neutralized. Apparently, he had missed somebody important.

His watch chirped. He turned around and sat at his desk. It was made of thick slabs of oak, and it probably weighed as much as his car. He loved it.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. A computerized voice asked for additional access codes, which he provided. Finally, he completed the connection.

"Hello," Doolittle said. "This is the project manager. I hope everybody got the message and joined the call."

Several voices answered in the affirmative, but he couldn't know if any were missing. Nobody would ever use their real name on a general conference call, not even Doolittle. Most participants would just listen with their microphones muted. He expected all responses would be brief and anonymous. That was fine. There was no such thing as being too careful.

"I'm sorry about calling this meeting at such an obscene hour," Doolittle said. "Unfortunately, I have bad news that couldn't wait. At 3:30 this morning, at least two hostile individuals penetrated the main medical facility. They gave themselves a grand tour, killed some of the staff, and escaped by helicopter."

"I thought your security was unassailable," a woman said.

Doolittle didn't recognize her voice, but he had many allies he had never met in person.

"The intruders were professionals," he said. "Highly skilled and very well prepared. They captured one of our scientists. We have to assume the project is significantly compromised. Fortunately, this scientist didn't participate in the development of the core technology. He's just a brain surgeon."

"Who were the intruders?" a man said.

"A man and a woman. That's all we know."

"Do we have pictures?"

"No," Doolittle said. "Cameras aren't allowed inside the medical facility, not even surveillance cameras. We can't risk photographic evidence falling into the wrong hands. As some of you already know, we've had other troubling incidents during the last few days. The mayor of Lemonseed was viciously attacked in his own office, along with two police officers on our payroll. A White Flame employee closely associated with this project was also attacked, and his family was killed in their home. I need all of you to help me find out who is responsible. Use your best contacts. This is an urgent matter."

Several people on the call agreed to the request, but the overall enthusiasm was less than Doolittle had hoped for. They were a savvy group, always looking out for their own interests. Their loyalty to the project would fade quickly if the risks started to outweigh the potential rewards.

"In the meantime I propose the following," Doolittle said. "Let's terminate the Lemonseed experiment immediately as a precaution. All test subjects and auxiliary personnel will have to be eliminated. Local support facilities will be destroyed, including the medical facility, of course. Let's leave nothing here for our new enemies but ashes."

"Are you talking about terminating the entire project?" a different woman said.

"No, we've come too far for that. Phase three construction is almost complete, so we might as well occupy it now. We'll just have to accelerate the overall schedule by a few months."

"Is the technology ready for the next phase?"

"I believe so," Doolittle said. "We accomplished most of what we intended in Lemonseed. We performed the procedure on hundreds of subjects and put them through every kind of trial we could think of. I'll grant the technology isn't flawless, yet, but it's pretty damn good. We fixed all the big issues that plagued us early in the project."

The response was silence. He knew they were weighing his words and deciding how much they trusted his opinion.

"Unless somebody has a better proposal," he added. "Of course I always welcome
constructive
feedback. This project is a team effort. If we don't have enthusiastic support by everybody, we will certainly fail."

That statement was true. The project demanded a high level of financial, technical, and political support. Some extremely important people were expecting to share the grand prize in the end. It was hard for Doolittle to keep track of all the pockets waiting to be filled with money and power. Still, it was worth it. Success would lead to a fundamental transformation of human society.

Nobody spoke.

"Then it's settled," he said. "We will proceed according to my proposal. I will send out the specific orders at once, but I think everybody already knows what is expected of them. This isn't the first time we've burned all the evidence. I want it done in hours, not days. Have a good day."

He hung up the phone.

Chapter Sixteen

The sign above the door read "Holy Life Lutheran Chu." Stains showed where the final "r" and "h" had fallen off. Aaron smiled.
An appropriate place for God's dirty work,
he thought.

The small church was made of white brick. A few glass windows remained, but most were covered with plywood. A crack in one wall had dislodged a few of the bricks, and Aaron guessed the foundation had settled there. The parking lot had more weeds than asphalt.

He looked around. The nearest building was a farmhouse a half-mile away, and there was no traffic on the narrow country road. No doubt the church's isolation had contributed to its abandonment. He wondered why anybody had thought it was a good idea to build it here at all.

He went to a window and peeked through a crack between two pieces of plywood. Marina, Smythe, and Norbert were inside the church. They looked tired, but it was the kind of tired they could be proud of because the night had been very productive. Aaron hadn't slept either. How could he, when the woman he loved was in danger?

He went to the front door of the church and kicked it open. Immediately, several guns were pointed in his direction.

"A little slow, Norbert," Aaron said.

Norbert looked down. "Sorry, sir. I need some coffee."

Everybody put their guns away.

The interior smelled like bird droppings. All the pews were gone, but marks showed where they had been. A pile of garbage in the corner suggested somebody had lived there for a while. Some of the floorboards were rotten. Aaron had to watch his step to avoid putting a foot through the floor.

The unconscious captive was mounted on the far wall above the altar. Aaron took a closer look. The man had been stripped naked and crucified. Iron spikes driven through his wrists and ankles supported all his weight.

"That's something you don't see every day," Aaron said.

"The church inspired me," Marina said.

"I'm not sure about the symbolism though."

"What symbolism?"

He glanced at her. "Never mind."

A portable generator hummed nearby, and jumper cables were attached to it. There was an assortment of hand tools and a propane torch. Smythe was holding a medical kit.

"Looks like we're ready," Aaron said. "Wake him up."

Smythe took a syringe from his kit and gave the captive an injection. A moment later he woke up. He started to move around, but then he froze and cried out in pain. He looked at his wrists, and his eyes opened wide in horror.

Aaron stood in front of him and said, "Good morning."

"Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?"

"My name isn't important. You're Dr. Craig Hurly. Age 42. Divorced. A brain surgeon with impressive credentials. Nine months ago you quit your private practice unexpectedly and went to work for White Flame Technology. My friend here is also a doctor with very considerable skills." Aaron nodded towards Smythe. "I'd call you colleagues, but I think he'd object strongly to any kind of association with you."

Marina lit the propane torch.

"You'd better let me go," Hurly said. "I have powerful, dangerous friends. They'll come for me."

"I hope they do," Aaron said. "It will save us the trouble of finding them."

Hurly looked at the torch.

Aaron continued, "We know you're conducting a massive experiment on the residents of Lemonseed. You're surgically implanting a device into their brains against their will. It affects their behavior, in some cases catastrophically."

Marina picked up a four-inch nail with a pair of pliers. She held the nail in the flame from the torch.

"I don't know anything about that," Hurly said nervously.

"It's obvious you're one of the doctors directly involved," Aaron said. "We have many questions about the device and the goals of the experiment. You can save yourself a lot of pain by simply telling us everything now."

"Why do you care?"

"You only need to know that we do care, a lot. Are you going to talk?"

Hurly kept his mouth shut.

Marina carried the red hot nail over to him. She held a hammer in her other hand. Her face showing no emotion, she pounded the nail all the way into his thigh with a single whack. He screamed until he ran out of breath. When he was quiet, Aaron heard his flesh still sizzling. Marina went back to the torch and picked up another nail.

"I heard all about your hospital from Hell," Aaron said. "You're a sadistic, evil man, Dr. Hurly. You can expect the same kind of mercy from me that you showed your patients."

"We're scientists," Hurly gasped. "Not torturers."

"I'm sure that subtle distinction was lost on your victims."

"I won't talk."

"You're an intelligent man," Aaron said. "Ask yourself these questions while you writhe in agony. Who are you protecting? Would they suffer like this for you?"

Hurly remained silent.

Aaron nodded to Marina. "Have fun."

She put another hot nail in Hurly's thigh.

Aaron noticed Smythe kept looking away, flinching, and frowning.

Aaron joined him on the far side of the room. "Something wrong?"

"I hate this," Smythe said.

"You have a better idea?"

"No, sir. At least we picked the right guy for it. Nothing worse than a doctor who turns his Hippocratic Oath upside down. Do you think Marina will make him talk?"

Aaron nodded. "Marina was trained by Ethel. This shouldn't take too long. Oh, I have to congratulate you. Last night was your most dangerous assignment so far, and you flew right through it."

"Thanks to your brilliant plan, sir," Smythe said.

"Once I saw the satellite photos, the plan was pretty obvious."