“I’ve looked extensively into Mallory Thompson’s background, and she is not involved in that lifestyle in any way. In fact, just prior to being hired on by Westlake, she had been quite vocal about her opposition to such activities. Considering she is never further away from him than the distance of the building’s perimeter and they always leave for the day together, I would guess she was simply another experiment with increasing the range and effectiveness of the Norman chip.”
“So, if she was used to increase the range of the chip,” Gear wondered to himself, “what is the range of the one that they’re putting into that guy’s head?”
Swiveling back to the monitor, Ashe watched as the scientist and one of his associates crowded around the unconscious man’s head. Since the volume was still muted, no one could hear what the scientist said but it was clear he was asking for a tool, since the associate handed him a drill. Working carefully and precisely, the scientist drilled a very small hole in the front of the man’s head, stopping before actually striking the brain and causing any damage. Returning the drill to his associate, he took from the man a syringe containing what appeared to be saline.
Pausing the video and then zooming in very closely on the syringe, then cleaning up the picture with imaging software, the three watching the monitor were just barely able to make out the shape of a tiny square floating within the clear fluid. Once Ashe resumed the video, the three watched as the syringe was carefully slid through the hole that had been drilled into the man’s skull before the plunger was slowly depressed. Once all of the contents had been injected into the man’s brain, the syringe was carefully removed and the tiny hole was cauterized shut. With the man’s hair covering the drill site, no casual observer would have any idea that such a procedure had been performed.
“Why the fuck aren’t they doing that in a sterile environment?” Gear demanded quietly.
“The entire lab is set up to be a clean room,” Ashe explained. “The air is constantly being cleared of contaminants by multiple air scrubbers, and there is an anti-bacterial and anti-microbial solution distributed throughout the entire lab via an atomizing system. In all reality,” he said, turning to look at the weaponsmith, “that lab is probably safer to perform surgery in than any operating theater.”
“So,” Westlake was saying now that Ashe had re-engaged the sound, “am I correct that the Norman protocol utilizes two chips now instead of only one?”
“Yes sir,” the scientist confirmed with a nod, walking over to a large smart board and bringing up a digital schematic of the brain. “Initially, the chip was installed into the hypothalamus so as to stimulate heightened sexual responses.” A small target symbol appeared on the part of the brain the man was referring to. “As you know, we have learned that merely increasing a subject’s sexual drive, regardless of how much is only effective to a certain degree.”
“In other words,” Westlake said, glancing over at Mallory, “no matter how much the subject wants or needs to fuck, it still can’t guarantee full compliance.”
“Not without some form of training or conditioning regimen,” Dr. Wright agreed. “What we have done with Project Norman is introduce a second chip after the first one is in place. This one is installed within the frontal lobe so as to better take control of the subject’s decision making, emotional responses, and even their personality.”
“And how are you able to facilitate this control with something so small?” Westlake inquired. “Obviously, you can’t install a CPU or mobile uplink.”
“You’re only half right,” the man sitting at the computer said as he spun around in his chair. “The chip does, in fact, have an uplink to Westlake Industries satellite system. It’s confined to a very specific part of it that only this lab and yourself have access to, but it allows us to stream command line code to the chip. The chip translates the code into specific electrical pulses that will essentially steer the brain into functioning however we want.”
“The subject will still have what amounts to ‘free will’,” Dr. Wright continued, “but we will be able to manipulate their brain in such a way that we can guide the subject’s decision-making process. In layman’s terms, we will be ‘whispering in their ear’, so to speak.”
“Very impressive doctor,” Westlake said with an approving nod as he looked over at the still unconscious duo. “Security will be removing the young lady shortly. As for Senator Brightman,” he said, looking over at Mallory, “have him brought to my office when he wakes up so I can remind him of his duties.”
“Yes sir,” Mallory acknowledged immediately.
From there, the rest of the video consisted of several men from security entering the room and removing the young woman through one of the side doors of the lab. Though he would check the footage to be sure later, Ashe knew she was being moved out of the building and into a secure vehicle out of sight of any of Westlake Industries personnel. Approximately an hour later, the older man known as Senator Alex Brightman woke up and was escorted from the lab.
“So we’re too late,” Gear sighed as Ashe shut down the video footage.
“To stop Project Mantis and Norman from going active, yes,” Ashe confirmed in a neutral tone.
“I knew I should have contacted Amethyst sooner,” WiseCrack berated herself.
“It likely wouldn’t have made much difference,” the vigilante assured her. “Amethyst would have needed weeks or even months to break into Westlake’s systems to the degree that we could have shut down the entire lab and erased any and all data without throwing up an alert. Even then, there’s a risk that someone would still notice the intrusion and countermeasures could be activated. For now,” he said, looking back at the bank of monitors currently rotating through the massive amount of security cameras currently in operation in Westlake Industries, “we’ll have to be satisfied that we have eyes and ears in that building. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find out about any future operations Westlake plans to initiate and be able to head them off.”
“In the meantime,” he said, swiveling to directly address his friends and subordinates, “we have a lot of work to do if we don’t want this country taken over by a psychotic dictator.”
Nodding their agreement, the pair left the command center to get to work on their previously established assignments. It wasn’t until they were gone that Ashe turned back around and brought up a very specific pair of camera images. Where the events the three of them had just watched had taken place twenty-four hours ago, Ashe now watched via the live feed as another man was wheeled into the lab on a hospital bed. This man wasn’t a senator, but a member of the House of Representatives who had also been very outspoken regarding the condemnation of Westlake’s presidential agenda and platform.
It was quite clear by this point just how Westlake intended to stack the odds in his favor as well as push forward any legislation that would benefit him personally should he win the presidency. Having any number of congressmen or women firmly under his control and taking control of any more he required, would allow him to effectively control the entire U.S. government as he saw fit. It was a coup unlike any the world had ever seen, and no one would even know it was happening.
Unfortunately, merely killing Westlake would not solve the problem. Even though his campaign was still in its infancy, it had already stoked the fires of a great many people within the country who shared in his views… particularly when it came to fey. The fact that he tempered that message of hate with the promise of fixing and even improving infrastructure and healthcare meant any assassination would result in martyrdom. Westlake himself might be dead, but the fuse had been lit on a potential bomb that could potentially tear the entire country in half. The only way to take Westlake down was to completely discredit him before the election. Failure meant Ashley, Aiden, and Kitty likely wouldn’t have a country to return to, and for Ashe that simply wasn’t an option.
If it meant Ashley could come home, Ashe wouldn’t hesitate to unleash hell on Harold Westlake.
Marking Territory: An Awakened Novel (The Rising Storm Book 1) Page 18