“Yes, I recently found out,” I admitted.
“The Rodante Group claims to be a research facility for psychic and paranormal activity,” D’Angelo continued. “They make no excuses about it, but what I’ve come to learn is that they use mind control and psychological rape to convert someone like Cassandra into a useful tool. They rescued her, and then put her through some kind of unorthodox program of hypnosis, love bombing coupled with sleep deprivation and fatigue, to clean her up. In other words, they brainwashed her into working for them and doing their dirty work. It was a dual edged sword for her; both a blessing and a curse. More importantly, this arrangement eventually got Cassandra killed,” D’Angelo paused again and then went on in a steely voice, “Mr. Lewis, they used my daughter like a dish towel. She was a pawn in their hands. They acted as both her savior and destroyer and she didn’t deserve that. Cassandra didn’t deserve that,” he repeated nostalgically.
“What do you want from me, Mr. D’Angelo?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want to know everything you know.”
“All right,” I said and then took a deep breath, ready to jump in. “I first learned about The Rodante Group when I researched which paranormal R&D facility had the most clout. You see, I have a paranormal ability. Some call it a sixth sense, but all the chaos in my life began after I told someone about this ability. The Rodante Group had the longest reach and the largest financial backing. Their company logo is the Eye of Providence or ‘all-seeing eye.’ After Casey admitted that she was involved in both attempts to kidnap me and that she’d placed the listening device in my home, I suspected that she worked for The Rodante Group, but she refused to confirm it. She told me she was more afraid of them than the results of the sedative. At that time, I didn’t know The Rodante Group had any connection to my employer, GMS,” I said and paused. I’d already said a lot.
“Go on,” D’Angelo encouraged.
“I flew to Vancouver looking for a man who’d spotted my ability nearly fifteen years ago in Cairo. He willingly filled in many details about his work for the company and also confirmed that The Rodante Group was a subsidiary of GMS. He verified what I’d already learned from Casey, that I’d been watched since my days at Columbia and that they’d even contacted my parents when I was a young child. This man has a great deal of information about The Rodante Group and is certain they’ve crossed several ethical lines. He doesn’t believe that the parent company, GMS, is aware of this breach of etiquette and ethics.”
I sat with Sal D’Angelo and Antonio Benetti for well over two hours telling them everything. I didn’t hold anything back. I finished with the conclusion I’d reached earlier—I’d never be safe. I’d have to change my name and run. D’Angelo nodded.
“Someone needs to bring these rotten bastards to their heels.”
“I’ve already volunteered,” Benetti stated with a steely calm. D’Angelo glanced at him briefly and then stood up to dismiss the meeting. The guard who’d stood silently in the corner of the room throughout the entire visit came forward and reached to take my arm.
“Mr. D’Angelo, before I’m dismissed, I’d like a direct way to contact you,” I stated.
“Is that really necessary?” D’Angelo asked.
“I think it is. The person I visited in Vancouver might need to get in touch with you and, if I run, I only have a short window to get your information to him. I need to know that, if he contacts you, he’ll get to you and you alone. This person has a great deal of valuable and incriminating information on the responsible company. If he contacts you, he’ll be risking his own life and that of his family. It’s not an easy choice to make. If you’re serious about justice, two heads are better than one,” I said and then paused trying to gauge his interest. He finally nodded weighing the advantages with the obvious risks.
“Make sure to give him what he’s asking for and tell Eddie to drop Mr. Lewis off at the destination of his choice,” D’Angelo said to the guard.
“One more thing,” I said as I reached inside my pocket. Before I could complete the action, the guard quickly grabbed my arm, frisked the pocket, and then released me. “This is a business card for the FBI agent who’d jump at the opportunity to start an investigation,” I continued, undisturbed by the guard’s protective action. “We’ve been friends since our days at Columbia and he knows the entire story. I think he’d make a good contact when you’re ready.”
“Is this the man who’s having you followed?” D’Angelo asked, surprised.
“Yes, but only for my protection and only as a means to track the others who are following me. He’s one of the good guys and an excellent agent. You can trust him.”
D’Angelo took the card and then nodded to the guard. I was escorted to the door and the bag went over my head. Eddie dropped me off at the brownstone. Once inside, I sent a text to Adom telling him to call. The phone rang about five minutes later.
“Dr. Mike,” Adom said warmly.
“Adom, I’m going to text you the name of a man who has a big score to settle with our employer, specifically against The Rodante Group. Between the two of you, there should be enough information to warrant an FBI investigation. My friend, Joe Talbot, is ready and willing to lead that investigation. That might be your only salvation and a way out of this predicament for you and your family. Do you think this is an option for you? Could you join forces with a very powerful man who has a bone to pick with them?” I asked.
“Yes,” Adom replied simply.
“Then, keep the contact information safe. Call him when you’re ready to talk,” I said matter-of-factly and then hung up. I took out the slip of paper and sent Sal D’Angelo’s contact information to Adom. I finally breathed easier.
During the next practice, Sensei and I revisited the five steps to disarm an attacker and then proceeded to the elaborate dance to protect my core. The circular motions had now become muscle memory and I was lost in the practice as my body perfectly performed the routine. All the while, my mind entertained and worked on other matters. When the lesson was completed, I didn’t know where the time had gone and was surprised to hear Sensei’s praise.
“Well done, Michael-san; this is the way. Don’t think; just do! This is Satori! You’re allowing the spirit to do the work and setting the mind aside. This is the way!” Sensei said and then bowed slightly.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joe arrived unannounced early Friday morning with two coffees in hand. We went to the deck to drink it. I enjoyed the first cigarette of the day as we sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I have Magin’s body, Mike,” Joe finally said in a quiet, raspy voice, “I sent an agent to New Mexico to get it and bring him back to New York. I never knew how much the two of you looked alike. You never mentioned it. My God, seeing him on the table nearly gave me a heart attack. It looked like you lying there. You could be brothers, maybe even twins. His face is badly damaged, but still I can see a remarkable resemblance even through the scars.”
“I need to call Aunt Sandy.”
“No, you don’t! Let me handle this,” Joe replied quickly and fiercely. “We don’t have time for that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Look, Mike, we have to move fast. That’s why I’m here. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” Joe asked, but it was more of a command.
“Ok,” I replied and held out my hands in surrender. I chuckled softly about Joe’s outburst. I found it amusing in a bizarre way, but Joe was too antsy and nervous to join me in the laughter. He was a man with a lot on his mind.
“Listen, Mike,” Joe began again, “I’ve worked out your escape plan. I know this is sudden and a big surprise. I know you’ve been toying with it for weeks, but you were hitting some dead ends. It means saying goodbye to everything you know, but I agree with you that there isn’t any other option. My closest associates and I have it figured out. I want to be clear—don’t ask any questions. I’m here to spend the day with you and get
you on a plane. The less you know the better.”
“Ok, Joe. Geez, what do you want me to do?”
“You have to get ready. Get some cash together and pack a bag of whatever you’ll need to get by for a few days. Take your passport and electronics with you but keep it as light as possible.” Joe said in a rush. “This might be the very thing that saves your life.”
He said don’t ask any questions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any. How the hell will this work? Can I actually get away and start a new life? Will I be free or will I have to look over my shoulder the rest of my life?
“I don’t know how you’ve done this and I won’t ask any questions, but what can I do to help you?”
“I need a list of people to contact or notify if you died or disappeared,” Joe continued. “Who would I notify if you suddenly couldn’t return to work? I need a list of everything you keep up with and the bills you pay, all of it. Take an hour or so and get it together. We have to go on some errands—we need to get to the bank. You’ll need to withdraw some money. The rest of the plan for your disappearance begins later this afternoon.”
I was too stunned to say anything at all. I’d hoped and prayed this day would come, but never dreamed it would happen this way. Joe had taken the lead and for that, I was grateful.
“No questions Mike and don’t make any farewell calls. No more training classes either. You must cut all ties. That means you can’t afford to say goodbye to anyone—not even Sarah. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I replied solemnly even though I didn’t understand how it would work or how Joe had managed to pull this out of his hat. I was truly staggered by the news. It was a good thing that he didn’t leave me alone. He stayed by my side to prod me onward until I had completed the tasks required. We were finished early.
We watched the evening news. The most recent kaleidoscope images of the freeze-out occurred that evening about an hour before sunset in Follett, Texas. Follett is a small town located in Lipscomb County of the northeast Texas panhandle and near the Oklahoma state line. With an elevation of 2,637 feet, Follett just happened to be ripe for the circular and frigid jet stream that had dipped into the area. The recorded temperature dropped from 55 degrees Fahrenheit to minus 80 degrees in thirty minutes and, almost as suddenly, returned to a more normal 33 degrees by ten o’clock that evening. Other elevations weren’t affected by such a severe drop even though the same ice storm passed over their locations. It was a mystery and labeled a freak storm. The broadcast turned to more important and noteworthy events such as the stock market and sports announcements.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“It’s time,” Joe finally said. “Just act natural. We know we’re being watched and we want them to see us. We want them to figure out that you’re going somewhere with a suitcase.”
I was surprised to hear that was part of Joe’s plan but followed his lead. We walked slowly and nonchalantly to the car pretending that no one monitored me. We stopped beside the large LTD sedan.
“Throw your carryon in the backseat,” Joe said. I opened the rear door and tossed it in. “Buckle-up, Mike,” he said with a grin when we were both in the front seat.
I watched Joe while he watched the rearview mirror. I looked out the side mirror but didn’t see anything. He maneuvered the car away from the curb and then pulled out onto the street. We were silent for a few minutes as he handled the big sedan in the night’s traffic.
“Mike, I know you’re not one to panic, so I’m not going to caution you about that. You’ve always had a cool head, but you haven’t trusted me in the past few weeks and tonight I need you to keep your faith in me no matter what happens. The route we’re taking is to the JFK airport. You have a ticket on a nine-fifteen flight. I can use my badge to get us through security, so that’s why the timing has to be perfect and with little room to spare. I want this to be a close call and it looks like it’s going to be,” Joe said.
A set of headlights glared through the rear window of the sedan as a large black SUV pulled out to follow us. I could tell Joe was expecting that. “This has to work Mike or everything will fall apart. My team has put a lot of effort into the planning and I trust them with my life and yours. I want you to trust me no matter how bad it looks. Do you think you can do that?”
“Sure I can Joe,” I replied with eyes fixated on the headlights following us. “Are you going to try to lose them?”
“Not yet,” Joe answered as he drove normally, following the speed limit and obeying all traffic signals. “It’s important that they actually figure out we’re going to the airport. Don’t worry; we’ll lose them before the exit. When it gets critical, we’ll have a little help.”
I nodded. Joe had said earlier ‘the less you know the better’ so I didn’t want to pressure him. I didn’t ask any questions. I continued to watch the headlights following more closely now as we approached heavier traffic.
“Don’t worry; this old LTD has a V-8 under the hood. We’ll get some distance when we need it to do its job,” Joe said and then laughed, trying to ease the tension we felt. “We’ll be able to pull away from them when we need to,” he repeated, and it was then that I understood how nervous he was. A lot was at stake.
I continued to watch Joe watch the SUV behind us. It was obvious that he had to play each move exactly as planned. If he sped up too soon, the men following would try to keep up; they’d stay on our tail longer than he intended. Joe didn’t want that to happen.
Suddenly, the black SUV got closer.
Is it too close?
The monster vehicle was breathing down our necks. Apparently, they didn’t want someone to cut them off in the heavy evening traffic. They weren’t taking any chances. That was one thing Joe couldn’t predict—their reaction and counter measures.
“That’s right boys, keep coming,” Joe said to the men following. “Mike, you know they’ve been following you since your return from Roussillon, right?”
“Yeah, I know. Everywhere I go, I’ve got four men following me,” I said and then chuckled in an attempt to lessen the tension.
“Well, we’ve spotted them and made a few arrests, but it never makes a dent. Two more take their place immediately. The only ones who’ve been able to shake them were the Italian mobsters that nabbed you the other day. Where’d they take you—to see Mr. D’Angelo again?” Joe asked trying to keep my mind off the present situation.
“They did,” I replied. “I also met Antonio Benetti, Casey’s ex-husband. It seems that neither D’Angelo nor Benetti is willing to let anyone off the hook for Casey’s death. They’re tracking the company behind it and hope to accumulate enough information to have some bureaucracy start an investigation into their misconduct.”
“That’s a good idea,” Joe said. “I’d be happy to head that up.”
“That’s exactly what I told him. In fact, I gave him your business card. It was the last one I had on me. I also told him about Adom and how much he knew about these bastards. I’m hoping they get their heads together,” I said.
Joe merged left onto Interstate 495 East ramp and the black SUV followed. When he accelerated to smoothly enter traffic, it put a little distance between the two vehicles and the gap widened. The LTD held its own, steadily eating up the highway.
“We have to get through the toll booth, but I have an easy pass,” Joe remarked as he moved into that lane and then slowed for the scanner. The black SUV followed closely behind determined not to lose us. “We’re almost there, Mike, but this has to be flawless; too much is at stake.”
Suddenly, the SUV caught-up. It was so close the sedan filled with the headlights glaring in the back and side windows. It felt like the damn vehicle was climbing through the back of the car.
“They’ve figured out where we’re going,” Joe said flatly.
“Is that good?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s real good. It allows for the rest of the plan to succeed.”
Before we could figure out what
happened, the huge vehicle rammed into the LTD’s rear-end. We were both thrown forward from the impact. My seat belt locked, cutting into the side of my neck. I struggled to release its tension.
The LTD swerved wildly as Joe fought to maintain control. He finally won and steered the car back to safety, but the SUV wasn’t done yet. It was determined to plow into us again.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelled.
“They don’t want you to get on that plane,” Joe said while he accelerated again. It was an attempt to keep the SUV off our tail.
“Are we getting close?” I asked, worried that the damn SUV would run us off the road if it repeated that.
“Yes. We’re almost there.” Joe worked fiendishly as he maneuvered the car out of the path of the SUV.
Joe swerved quickly to the right for the exit to Interstate 678 and Van Wyck Expressway and barely missed hitting the stone gore point of the highway entrance ramp.
They had more time and took the exit with ease. We continued towards the airport and now it was only a short stretch. At this speed, we’d be at the exit in only a few minutes.
I didn’t know what Joe had planned, but I trusted him. He was doing his best and that was good enough for me.
Suddenly, two blue SUVs appear alongside the black one with dashboard lights flashing and sirens blaring.
“It’s about time, fellows. That’s the help I was talking about,” Joe said with exhilaration and relief.
We nervously watched the scene as the blue SUV’s wedged the black one between them. I couldn’t take my eyes off the occurrence—it was surreal.
The two agency SUVs, one on either side of the black vehicle, wedged it between them, forcing it to take a different path away from the LTD.
“There it is!” Joe said excitedly when he spotted the sign for ‘Terminal Four.’ I couldn’t understand his excitement. We were in the far left lane of the highway while the two agency vehicles took up the two middle lanes. If we were going to take the exit, then Joe had to cross several lanes in a hurry and avoid traffic to do it.
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