Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

In my heart, I know I love you, even if they shock me.

  “Where are we staying?” she asked Pendleton.

  “I’ve rented a property on Hart Bay. You’ll love the view.”

  The next half hour taxed her conditioning. Pendleton nuzzled her neck and whispered wonderful words in her ear. Pain shot through her like bee stings. Her feelings toward him gradually became mechanical. She heard Kolb’s voice in her head.

  “I’m testing your progress. This last reaction didn’t register any excitement or emotion. Good job.”

  Peacock tried to get Kolb’s voice out of her memory by concentrating on her surroundings. Arthur’s mother had said little after their greeting, but she seemed happy. Peacock needed time with her alone.

  “We’ve only had a few days together in the last seven months,” Pendleton said. “I miss being close to you.”

  “I’ll take care of that tonight, Darling.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re almost due.”

  “I’m creative, silly boy.” No pain occurred. Apparently, sexual desire didn’t trigger the adverse reaction, only loving thoughts. Hum, she thought, lust is okay. Love is not. “I must talk to your mother. Give me an hour alone with her after dinner.”

  “Yes, mother asked for the same.”

  She did? Well of course she would. They’d never really spent any time together alone. With a grandchild days away, it would be natural to want to talk. And it was necessary for Peacock to be comfortable leaving her baby with Anne.

  So far, the one area of her psyche Kolb hadn’t touched was the love she felt for the child inside her. For some reason Kolb’s probe had no effect on her affection towards her son. The thought didn’t bring comfort to her. Knowing Kolb, someday she’d poison even her maternal instincts.

  I’ll not let Kolb beat me.

  #

  After arriving at Hart Bay, Peacock arranged the meeting between her and Anne Pendleton. Around two in the afternoon, she headed from her bedroom to meet Anne out on the deck. As she went, Polaris spoke to her. “You’re performing exceptionally well.”

  “Meeting with Arthur’s mother will be a challenge,” she answered.

  “We’ve rehearsed it.”

  Polaris didn’t understand. With women, discussions of this nature couldn’t be rehearsed.

  We’re too unpredictable, she thought.

  Peacock strolled out onto the villa’s deck overlooking the beach and Hart Bay. The beauty of the Bay astounded her. Peacock’s love of tropical islands had grown. Since she’d become a Herculean, she’d traveled to the most beautiful places in the world. Her own mother would have been awed by the life her daughter now led.

  The moment she pulled up a deck chair and sat down, Anne Pendleton rushed outside. “Don’t get up. Pregnancy trumps mother-in-law, my dear.”

  Anne swung herself onto a hammock, feet planted firm on the deck, hands planted on the hammock. “Arthur’s said nothing as to why we have this situation. Doesn’t it seem absurd to you that I’m to be a nanny?”

  “Quite absurd, I’ll grant you that.”

  “And that’s it,” Anne responded and slapped her knees. “How many children will I be required to raise on my own?”

  “However many Arthur wishes.”

  Anne cocked her head. Peacock understood how to manipulate men. Anne was no man. She stared at Peacock—eyes and mouth wide open.

  “How do you bloody Americans say it? Cut the crap, Laverna. What’s going on?”

  “Before I answer, will you do as Arthur asked?”

  “Of course I will, but I’ll be happier doing it understanding why. My son doesn’t reveal anything.”

  “Keep your cool,” Polaris whispered. “You’re doing fine.”

  Despite Polaris’s reassurance, her mouth had dried and she found it hard to swallow.

  “I’m not who I appear to be. Arthur knows the reason. That’s why we’ve kept a low profile and avoided the media.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I can’t tell you. I can tell you I’ve killed to protect Arthur. I’m privy to information that could alter the course of history. I’ll tell you no more for your own safety.”

  Anne Pendleton slumped. “Are you part of some political arrangement between our two countries?”

  “I can’t tell you anymore, Anne.”

  “Do you love my son?”

  A sharp pain was followed by her deep breathing. “As much as I’m capable of love, yes.”

  “Well he bloody adores you.” Fire lit up Anne’s eyes.

  “I know.”

  Peacock reached out and gently squeezed Anne’s hand. “Please understand. Arthur and I walk the path of world destiny. Our children can’t be exposed to the pressure.”

  “And I’m the relief valve?”

  Peacock remained silent. Anne’s punchy personality vanished. She rose from the hammock and leaned her back against the rail overlooking Hart Bay.

  “Arthur never settles for excellence. Supremacy is his goal. His love for you tells me he views you as the preeminent woman. I’m afraid for both of you, my dear daughter-in-law. Preeminence is a myth.”

  Peacock nodded. “I’m afraid for Arthur, not myself. What I am I asked to be.”

  Anne was right. Nothing about this marriage could match their expectations. “Please, do me one favor,” Peacock asked.

  “And that is?”

  “Promise me. After a week, when I give the baby into your arms, you won’t give him back, not even for a second.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll attach to my son, and thereby lose my effectiveness in my role.”

  Anne’s eyes moistened. Her lower lip quivered. “My heart hurts for you dear. I would have gone insane not to be able to hold my children.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “That’s a deception, daughter. Someone has fooled you into thinking that’s true.”

  “Nonetheless, please promise.”

  “As you wish,” Anne Pendleton sighed. “I’m no fool. Arthur’s been blessed with an amazing mind and the vision to match. Obviously, you are an exceptional woman. But as a future grandmother, my duty is to protect my grandchildren from the celebrity or infamy of their parents. I will guard them with my life.”

  Peacock rushed to hug her. “Thank you, Anne.”

  “You’re welcome, Daughter.”

  The hug lasted while both women wept. Finally, Peacock broke away.

  “I do love him,” she said, and hurried off.

  #

  Day 890

  “Arthur, wake up.”

  Peacock shook him.

  “What? What time is it?”

  “It’s two in the morning and my water broke.”

  “How far apart are your contractions?”

  “Maybe ten minutes?”

  She chuckled as he jumped out of bed and stumbled around looking for his socks. “Your clothes are laid out on the dresser. I think we have time to shower, at least you do.”

  The most powerful person in the world was human, vulnerable, and slightly clumsy.

  #

  Pendleton followed Peacock out to the car. They headed to the Myrah Keating Smith Center. He notified Ursa as arranged. Her medical team from the States would do the delivery.

  “I’m unusually calm about this,” she said, as their car rolled up in front of the medical center. “Shouldn’t I be nervous?”

  “I’ve never known you to be anything but calm.”

  Pendleton opened the car door and helped her into the building and to the delivery room. All four of her bodyguards entered as well followed by Anne Pendleton.

  “For her privacy, would you mind waiting outside?” Pendleton said to one of her team.

  “Our orders are to stay with her at all times.”

  “Doesn’t Ursa trust me?”

  His question went unanswered, except for a smirk.

  After four hours, her contractions came in rapid succession. The nurses were calling to her, “Push. Push.�
��

  “I feel the baby coming,” she panted and pushed harder.

  “There’s the head,” Doctor Berk whispered. “And he’s out.”

  Then Berk thrust a needle into Peacock’s arm.

  Her body went limp, as Pendleton jumped toward her. His reaction was too slow. Two of Peacock’s bodyguards grabbed his arms and held him fast.

  “Don’t call for help,” one said. “There are two helicopters and fourteen United States Marines on the grounds.”

  “You’re not going to give her even a moment with our son. Are you?”

  “Stay here until we’re gone,” Berk said and patted Pendleton’s arm. “Ursa will call when you can see her again.”

  “Who’s Ursa?” Anne asked, backing up away from the men, her face ashen.

  “You never heard the name,” Pendleton answered. “Forget it immediately.”

  Drugged and exhausted, Peacock was wheeled out with two nurses and Doctor Berk at her side.

  “Shall we intercept them?” Pendleton’s team leader asked when Pendleton finally reached him by phone.

  “No, let them go.”

  Arthur Pendleton nestled his son in his arms, then turned to his mother. “I’ll stay here a week and help you take care of him.”

  “It’s horrid what those bastards did to her. Can’t you stop them?”

  “For once in my life, Mum, I can’t.”

  As the helicopters left the compound, Anne Pendleton asked, “Did you agree on a name?”

  He nodded. “We settled on George Henry Pendleton. George Washington and all those King George’s were leaders of our nations. Of course we’ve had a number of Henry’s as king, and Henry was her brother’s name.”

  “Was?” Anne asked.

  “He died.”

  Pendleton left the medical center and made a call to Sir Jarvis Franks. “I need the best medical minds MI6 can muster, brain specialists in particular.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “To help me figure out how to deactivate an electronic probe attached to the brain.”

  “The purpose of the probe?”

  “Mind control.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Pendleton thought. That implant is coming out safely whether it takes a year or a decade—Ursa or no Ursa.

  Ursa didn’t play fair. Pendleton wouldn’t play fair either. He’d rescue his wife from the control of that maniac as soon as he could.

  #

  Ursa escorted Peacock’s medical team into the operating room in Doctor Kolb’s clinic. He’d been overruled by his boss and was forced to implement Kolb’s heinous plan. Peacock had been in a sleep-induced coma for over six hours. She’d been examined and monitored en route from St. John’s Island.

  “This new implant will work far better than the temporary one I installed,” Kolb said, as Ursa entered Operating Room B.

  “It better,” he spit. “I’ll voice my disapproval one more time.”

  “So noted,” Kolb said. “Our patient is in remarkably good health. It’s a simple matter of removing the temporary implant and installing the new.”

  “You’ve programmed her using that needle-like device. Tell me again why a new implant is necessary?”

  “The new one is pain free,” Kolb said. “We’ve measured all the thresholds and located all the response centers.”

  Ursa folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me what could go wrong.”

  “Nothing we know of initially.” Kolb pulled Peacock’s gown up and examined her again for any signs of post-delivery problems. “We tried memory removal on one of our test subjects. We won’t try that again.”

  Ursa grunted, “Poor devil.”

  “Over time the patient may develop brain cancer.”

  “You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

  “Ursa Major doesn’t think so.” She grinned, and Ursa pursed his lips.

  “The cancer diagnosis is predicated on ten to fifteen years of continual stimulation. The chances are between twenty and twenty-five percent. More worrisome is a malfunction that destroys the nerve receptors. The malfunction could cause insanity and even death. There is a twenty-five percent chance of nerve receptor damage occurring within four years. After that the chance is zero.”

  “How . . .”

  “How do we avoid it? I recommend monitoring safety limits monthly and replacing the unit every three years.”

  She turned Peacock’s head, pushed her hair up, and made an incision. “With the right neuro-imaging device and the correct brainwave band selection, she’ll be in no immediate danger.”

  “So without her being aware, we select and numb areas of the brain that produce responses adverse to our mission.”

  “Yes,” Kolb said. “Precisely that.”

  The words “You have my go ahead” never came out of his mouth. He simply turned and left.

  Chapter 37

  Day 911

  “Damn it, Kolb,” Ursa shouted. “It’s been weeks, and she’s not responding.”

  “She’s responding. She’s not aware she is, yet.” Kolb and her assistant, an Asian man named Chang Nyugen, huddled together and made an adjustment.

  “The adjustment better damn well work. I want an intelligent agent, not an unthinking killer. She’s supposed to protect the president.”

  “This will work.”

  “I don’t want promises, only results.”

  #

  The sunlight’s glare hurt Peacock’s eyes. Her eyes were opened, but it seemed as though a curtain had been raised to let the light in. She was pacing around the training area at the Herculean facility. Her last memory was of giving birth.

  “Peacock?”

  Magnus’s voice startled her.

  “How did I get here?”

  “You’ve been in training for three weeks now. Don’t you remember?”

  “No.”

  Her senses seemed supercharged. Sound was crisper than she’d ever remembered. She smelled sulfur from the fumes of munitions fire. She smelled her own sweat and tasted its salty flavor.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her senses were heightened and her body poised for action. “Yes.”

  “Run the course again,” Magnus yelled. “Go.”

  “I don’t remember running it the first time,” she answered as she raced up the incline obstacle and hurled herself across a spiked pit. Into the test tunnel she dashed, stopping only to adjust to the dark. As obstacles came at her, she dispatched them. She rolled and leaped through the maze, hitting only her enemies and leaving the innocent alone.

  As she approached the exit, three heavy objects, painted with Pendleton’s face, blocked her way out. She ripped them apart with star wheels and her own hands and dashed into the open.

  Magnus ran up yelling, “You broke your own rec. . .”

  He never got the word out. She threw him bodily across the yard and was about to stab him, when Ursa’s voice screamed in her head. “Peacock, stop. Your exercise is finished.”

  Blood trickled down Magnus’s neck as she rose up over him.

  “Identify yourself as a friend or foe next time,” she said, glaring down at him. “Or tell me to stop sooner—Magnus?”

  She helped Magnus to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you as you.”

  “Control your animal, Doctor Kolb” Magnus snapped, seemingly talking to the air. “I thought I was a dead man.”

  Peacock heard someone chuckle in her head.

  The word animal rang true. Until that moment, the last thing she remembered was pushing out her baby from her body. She looked down at herself, fit, streamlined, and ready for any task. Her memory before her water broke was foggy at best. How long had she been unconscious, probably weeks? Her husband—who was she married to? He was an important man, but she couldn’t remember his name.

  “Arthur Pendleton,” Polaris said. “Your memory will come back gradually. By the way, welcome back.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

 
“In two weeks or less, the oral communications feature will be shut down. Audible commands won’t be necessary. All controls will be through brain stimulation.”

  She didn’t answer. She was looking at her fingernails sensing the tingling of growth.

  #

  Peacock fastened the straps on her luggage, and two Herculeans took them away. She flopped down on her bed at the Emerald Hotel for the last time and stared up at the ceiling.

  I can’t trust even my own thoughts.

  Then a mellow relaxing calm poured over her. Her emotions came back under her control. She was safe.

  Arthur Pendleton, yes, she now remembered him fondly. He had been her husband. Her duty was to love him for the good of the cause. She hadn’t been told if she would ever see him again. Try as she might, she couldn’t connect with anything in her past emotionally. She lived in this moment and this moment only. That didn’t bother her. She was comfortable, confident in her capabilities and herself.

  Her mission in Room 1515 had ended. Reed was in hiding. The president was safe for now. And most important, her nemesis, Lytle was dead. Felicia had taken her old job and her room. Melanie was promoted to second-in-command. A newbie had been added to the staff in Room 1515. Peacock didn’t know her, but that didn’t matter. Her job was finished. She smiled.

  I have a son.

  Her thoughts leaped wildly, manipulated by Kolb. She would see her son again. Not Ursa, not Kolb, no one would stop her. They could alter her brainwaves all they wanted. Ursa understood her wishes and promised her visits with both Pendleton and her son. If he didn’t keep his promise, she’d kill him.

  Now she had a new assignment and another boss, John Sherman. She would protect President Charles Monroe with her life. Peacock headed outside and into the back of a presidential limousine. “Good morning, President Charles Monroe,” she said to an empty back seat, save for herself, “Agent Peacock at your service.”

  #

  Ursa studied Doctor Kolb, as she scribbled a few notes on her pad and tweaked the controls on Peacock’s monitor. Ursa jotted down notes of his own. He looked at the calendar on his desk. Tomorrow, Peacock would join Sherman’s team. Her assignment: to protect the president—but transmit important surveillance information directly to Ursa as well. He, in turn, would keep Ursa Major informed of Monroe’s activities.