CHAPTER 54
THE RECRUITMENT
The sounds of police sirens awoke me. I was lying in a field surrounded by a half dozen men. One of the men sat up and looked at me curiously. The others were stirring as well—moaning and groaning like they'd just been through a fierce battle. Beyond the men was a smoldering building and beyond the building was a lake—Possum Kingdom Lake, I was sure. The siren was getting closer and finally a sheriff's car pulled up by the smoldering building. As I stood up, I noticed I had a bottle in my hand. It had no label but I recognized it to be the truth serum that Mo had given me.
A sheriff's deputy got out of the car and came toward me. "Stan Turner?" he said.
"Yes. What happened here?" I asked as I slipped the truth serum in my pocket.
"You were kidnapped and they apparently brought you here. We got a call that there was gunfire and an explosion."
The deputy looked over at one of the men who had finally struggled to his feet and said to him, "I guess these men rescued you?"
The security man frowned and then said, "Yeah. I guess so. It was some battle, let me tell you."
"Did you recognize the kidnappers?" the deputy asked him.
The security man scratched his head. "No. Never saw them before. When they blew the place up, we must have been knocked out by the blast. When we woke up, they were gone."
As the deputy drove me back to the sheriff's office, I tried to remember what had happened. Then I remembered the truth serum. It had allowed Cheryl to remember what had happened to her, why not me? I unscrewed the cap. Just a couple drops will do, I thought, and carefully poured two drops into the cap. I threw my head back and let the two drops drip onto my tongue. After a moment I began to relax, I closed my eyes. . . .
When I woke up, I was very groggy, but as my mind cleared I remembered sitting Indian style in the back of the van driven by the soldiers in blue. Having made so many trips to Possum Kingdom Lake in the past few months, I could almost tell where we were at any given moment even though I was blindfolded. I felt the sharp left turn on the ramp onto I-30W and then the acceleration as we eased into the freeway traffic.
When we got to Fort Worth I felt us slow down through the downtown traffic. The hum of the road changed as we left Ft. Worth on our way to Weatherford. We slowed as we exited off the freeway onto Highway 180 and blended into the flow of the Weatherford traffic through town. Our pace picked up again as we left town. We made good time for about an hour until we slowed as it began to rain hard near Mineral Wells. The car swayed in the heavy winds and I heard thunder in the distance. Now it was less than thirty minutes to Possum Kingdom Lake and I feared the end of the road for Dr. Gerhardt and me.
Throughout the long drive I worried about Rebekah and the kids. What would they do without me? Of all my children Marcia would be the most devastated. She was so young and definitely a daddy's girl. Tears welled in my eyes. Would I ever see her again? The van leaned as it went around the first big bend where the road turns south along the lakeshore. We were almost there. I prayed that Paula had been able to get through to Paul and that a rescue team would be there to save us.
The van slowed and I felt the crunch of the tires crossing the gravel road that led to the big barn that Peter and I had discovered. We'd had a good time together and an experience neither would ever forget. Now I was in for a special treat—a guided tour of the caves that lay under the lake connecting the north shore to Cactus Island. For the first time, fear began to well up in me, choking me as the van came to a halt and the doors flew open. I felt a hand on my shoulder urging me to get up. These soldiers in blue didn't talk much. I hadn't heard a peep out them for nearly three hours. But then again, maybe they didn't need to speak. Perhaps they were telepathic.
Dr. Gerhardt was breathing heavily. I felt bad that he'd been dragged into this mess because of me. The poor man had just been minding his own business until I'd shown up demanding his help. It had never occurred to me that I might be endangering his life. I wondered if he had a wife and family. I'd never even bothered to ask him.
The hand pressed me forward. I heard a door open and felt the warmth of the indoors. The hand guided me through another doorway, and then I was stopped. I stood there a moment wondering why I'd been isolated. Was this my cell? I listened hard for even the faintest of sounds, but I heard nothing but dripping water. Was I in the caves already?
It was quite awhile before the door opened again. Someone walked in wearing heavy shoes with hard soles. Fear gripped me again as I felt I was about to be confronted by one of the soldiers in blue or worse yet, one of the frogmen. My blindfold was suddenly ripped off. I blinked and then saw, with great bewilderment, the man who stood before me.
"Mo?"
Mo smiled. "Hey, Stan. How ya doing?"
I shook my head thinking I might be hallucinating, but the image of my old CIA friend didn't change. It was him all right. "Ah. Well, I've been better actually, but you're a sight for sore eyes."
Mo laughed. "Yeah, I bet. I'm sorry about the blindfold and bindings. It was for show."
"For show?"
"Yeah. It's a little complicated. Let me explain."
Mo pulled over a couple chairs and motioned for me to sit down. He removed the bindings on my hands. As I rubbed my wrists, he began his explanation.
"About five years ago I was assigned the task of overseeing the Agency's secret Tarizon Repopulation Project."
"Tarizon? Where is that?"
"Tarizon is a planet out there in space somewhere. Don't ask me where."
I shook my head trying to make sense of what Mo was saying. "Another planet? You've been in contact with aliens from another planet?"
"Yes."
"For five years?"
"Actually longer than that. I think it dates back to the fifties. It's not a matter of public record, obviously. Only a few people in the government even know about it."
"Does the President know about the project?"
"Yes, but only that it exists. He doesn't know the details except that we are helping them in exchange for technical information."
This was blowing my mind. I was just getting used to the idea that there was intelligent life in space and now I was finding out that, not only had the government known about it for forty years, it was engaged in a joint operation with them. I shook my head in shock and amazement.
Mo continued, "Anyway, the human population of Tarizon has been shrinking due to atmospheric contamination caused by a series of earthquakes and super volcanos. Unfortunately the contamination has made most of the women of Tarizon sterile. In the first ten years after the seismic events the population of Tarizon has dropped nearly 11 percent.
"Their scientists have been making great strides in cleaning up the atmosphere, but completion of the task is still decades away. So, they sent emissaries here in the 50s asking for our help, and the CIA was given the task of handling it. The Tarizonians wanted to bring their men here to find mates, have children, and then take the children back to Tarizon."
"And the government agreed to this?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes and no. The agency agreed but it has kept the details of the operation a secret for obvious reasons. I don't think the President or Congress wants to know. They just want the technology we're getting in exchange for allowing the cultivation and harvesting of children."
"Oh, my God."
"Why do you think the United States is so much more advanced than the rest of the world?"
"I can't believe this. We're trading children for technology?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. I know it sounds horrible but the technology saves a lot of lives too."
"So, let me guess, Martin Windsor is one of the men from Tarizon?"
"Yes, he is. In fact, he’s one of the administrators of the project. His job was to handle their finances and he was very good at it. That’s why he had so many businesses and investments and traveled so much. And that’s why when his wife threatened to divorce him, we made sur
e she hired your firm to handle the case. We couldn’t stop her from filing for divorce, but at least with you handling the case we could exercise some control over the situation if we had to.”
I just stared at Mo. He’d never said his referrals had strings attached. I shook my head in disgust.
“So, how did the program work?” I said trying to remain calm..
“A typical visitor would come for five or six years. That would give him time to find a mate, have a couple kids and then return to Tarizon with them. The only hitch was explaining the disappearance of the father and children. Usually that was handled by staging an accident or a faking a parent kidnapping.”
“That is sick!”
“Perhaps, but the government decided the technology we were getting justified the sacrifice.”
“So Martin Windsor staged Jimmy’s death,” I conjectured.
“Yes but we got sloppy and missed the love triangle between Jimmy, Susan Weber, and Stephen Caldwell. When Stephen Caldwell was indicted for murder we feared the Tarizon Repopulation Project would be exposed. In fact, you almost exposed it yesterday when you put Cheryl Windsor on the stand.”
“So, why did you give me the truth serum if you didn’t want the project exposed?”
“You didn’t ask for it for Cheryl. You said you were going to use it on Weldon Everett. We wanted to know what he was up to.”
“I don’t understand. Isn’t he one of your operatives.”
“No, he’s a Tarizonian who was assigned as an aid to Martin Windsor. You see, Martin Windsor wasn’t planning to go back to Tarizon. He’d been here nearly fifteen years and gotten accustomed to an opulent lifestyle. He didn’t relish the thought of going back to a harsh life on Tarizon.”
“So, that’s why he was trying to make it look like Cheryl had killed him,” I said starting to get the picture.
“Yes,” Mo agreed. ”He thought if everyone believed Cheryl had killed him and taken his money, he could change his identity and live on Earth in luxury for the rest of his life.”
“Right. So, when did you figure all this out?” I asked.
“When you asked me to check into the offshore bank accounts I realized something was awry. The accounts had all been switched around and most of the money was missing.”
“Right. And what was left was in Cheryl Windsor’s name, right?”
“Exactly, With Johansen’s help Martin Windsor had moved $30 million and left $3 million in an account he’d set up in Cheryl’s name. Since nobody knew exactly how much he was worth, he hoped they’d assume Cheryl had taken it all.”
“So, that’s why they tried to frame Paula. She was doing too much digging.”
“Precisely. Cheryl’s conviction was critical if their plan was to work.”
Everything was beginning to make sense now but I was afraid where all this was leading. I’d inadvertently stumbled into the deepest and darkest government secret of the 20th century. Was there anyway I’d get out of this alive?
“So, Jimmy Falk isn't dead,” I conjectured.
“No, he's on the ship that's about to take off. So are Martin, Cheryl and the children."
"So, you caught Martin?”
“Yes, he’s under arrest and will be dealt with by the authorities on Tarizon.”
“How does Cheryl feel about going leaving Earth and going to Tarizon?”
"She has no choice. She knows too much, thanks to you and the Spy Shop."
"They'd kill her if she stayed?"
"No. One of the conditions of our cooperation is that no Americans are to be injured or killed. If Cheryl elected to stay, which she could, they would strip her memory. The problem with that is that she would likely be left mentally impaired, if they did that. Exposure to one or two of the blue flashes strips about fifteen to thirty minutes of memory, but in the process it turns off thousands of brain cells. To strip several hours of memory would cause noticeable brain damage."
"So, she can go to Tarizon with her family or stay here and risk becoming a vegetable?" I asked.
"Probably not a vegetable, but not the woman she was when she woke up this morning."
I shook my head in disgust. "This is horrible. I can't believe the government is allowing this."
Mo shrugged. "It was hard for me to accept too, but the stakes are high."
“So, what are you going to do with me and Dr. Gerhardt? We obviously know too much.”
“Yes, I’m afraid Dr. Gerhardt must go to Tarizon.”
I shook my head. “Is that absolutely necessary. I don’t think he’d tell anyone about any of this.”
“We can’t take that risk.”
“So, what about me?”
"As you can probably imagine, this kind of operation isn't easy to keep secret. When a child goes missing a lot of people get upset. Each extraction of a child has to be carefully planned to make it appear there is a natural explanation for the disappearance. It can be a staged death, a parent kidnapping, a simple runaway, or whatever. Anyway, sometimes these extractions go wrong. That's where you come in."
"I don't understand."
"Jimmy Falk was an extraction that went wrong. Martin Windsor isn’t the first Tarizonian to decide he didn’t want to go home when his visit was over. We sometimes need legal help and we were impressed with how you handled Jimmy’s defense."
"We?"
"I work with a local commander named Kulchz. He and I have been watching you and your partner very closely. I told Kulchz you could be useful to us. Now, after all that has happened he agrees with me.”
My head felt like it was about to implode and the sick feeling I had in my stomach was intensifying geometrically. I didn't like the way this conversation was going at all. It seemed Mo and his friend Kulchz were about to make me one of those Mafia-type offers that I couldn't refuse.
“Really?”
"Yes. What impressed him the most is that you kept everything you learned about an alien presence on Earth to yourself and didn't go to the police or the media. I told him we could trust you and now he believes me."
"So what are you saying? You want me to represent these Tarizonians?"
"Exactly. We need someone who understands what's going on and can deal with any legal problems that arise."
"What about your soldiers in blue? They seem to be doing a pretty good job of dealing with any problems that arise."
"Yes, but those SWAT type operations are dangerous. They can lead to injury or death to Americans, and thus endanger the whole project."
"Listen, I'm flattered that you thought so highly of me to recommend me to your friend Kulchz, but what if I can't stomach any of this? It sounds like a really sick business."
"Well, it's your choice. If you don't want to play ball, there are other options: we can strip your memory and you'll never know you were given this opportunity, or you can get on the ship and live the rest of your life on Tarizon. I hear it's beautiful this time of year and I sure they'd love to have you."
A cold chill washed over me. It seemed the only acceptable option was to take the job. I didn't want to return to Rebekah as a halfwit. Nor did I relish the idea of spending the rest of my life on another planet without Rebekah and the kids. Suddenly a bell began to chime. Mo stood up.
"The ship's about to leave. You've got to make a decision quickly."
I got up and rubbed my temples. "Okay," I said. "I'll do it."
Mo smiled. "Good. I didn't want you to get hurt, Stan. I'm sorry to put you through all of this, but we're doing some good work with this project—saving a planet and ensuring the security of the United States. This is a very patriotic thing you're doing."
I shrugged. I couldn't feel good about any of this despite Mo's pep talk. "So, now what?"
"Your rescue party is outside. We've kept them at bay, but in a minute we'll let them through so they can rescue you. Just pretend they got to you just in the nick of time. Tell them the whole place is rigged to blow up in two minutes."
"Okay," I sai
d.
"One last thing. You know the truth serum I gave you?"
"Yeah."
"Keep it and use it whenever someone is less than candid with you. It only takes a drop or two and the truth will come pouring out."
"Wow."
Mo stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked like a pager but without any buttons or dials. "Also, here's a telepathic modulator. If you're ever in trouble simply hold it tightly in your hand, close your eyes, and your thoughts will be sent to your support team."
"You've got to be kidding."
"It's no big deal. They'll always be nearby anyway. Keep that in mind, if you know what I mean," Mo said. He left the room locking the door behind him. His last words seemed like a warning. What did he mean they'd always be close by? Surely they weren't going to have him followed 24/7.
After a few moments I heard gunfire, loud voices, and the sound of men running around. Suddenly the door flew open and a security man came rushing in. I raised my hands.
"Turner?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Thank God. We thought you were a goner."
"Listen," I said moving toward the door. "We've got to get out of here now! This place is about to blow. I heard them talking about it."
"All right, let's go," he said, following me out the door. I hesitated. He pointed left so I rushed down the corridor and out the front door. He yelled to the others to get out immediately as the place was about to blow. After clearing the entrance I ran a hundred yards away from the barn and then turned and looked back. The security team was right behind me and coming fast.
As they all gathered around me, the building exploded into a fiery inferno. We all hit the ground and covered our heads to protect ourselves from flying debris. When the dust had settled, I sat up and looked at what was left of the building. Then the wind began to swirl, the sky became dark, and there were flashes of blue light coming out of Cactus Island. Suddenly from the depths of the island a huge spaceship emerged and came straight at us. The men in the security detail looked up in amazement. Then there were more blue flashes. . . .
The car stopped in front of the sheriff's station. I blinked and looked around. Paul Thayer came rushing out of the building. I got out and embraced him. He said the sheriff needed to talk to me for a few minutes and then he'd drive me home. I waited on a bench outside the sheriff's office. Had this night actually happened, or was it just an incredible dream? Then I remembered the telepathic modulator Mo had given me. I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled it out. This was no dream. The modulator was the size of a cigarette lighter and very light. It had some writing on it similar to what I'd seen on the memory gun. I shook my head and put it back in my pocket. I was confused and tormented by the dark and troubling secret that had been cast upon me by Mo and the CIA—a secret that I knew would torment me for the rest of my life. I felt alone and helpless. Would God approve of my new role or was I now in the service of Satan himself? I didn't know. I needed time to think and adjust to this new reality. I felt like Jimmy Falk must have felt—helpless as my Jeep skidded out of control—about to plunge into the abyss. Then my cell phone rang and I felt the actual horror of going over the edge. It was Rebekah and she was frantic. "Stan! . . . Have you seen Peter? Is he with you?"
"No," I replied.
"Oh, my God! Peter is missing! . . . My boy is missing!"
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 54