by David Sloma
“I see that. Don't worry, I won't say anything to anyone.”
“Good man!” The professor patted Charles on the back, and they went up the stairs, returning to the living room for another drink.
CHAPTER 24
Charles went back to work and played it cool, trying his best to just follow the routine. That was tough, as he knew things were not as they seemed. Seeing the unexpected patterns in the DNA he had tested, in particular the symbol, had him wondering what his own DNA looked like. He was amazed that he'd never thought to check before now.
One day at the lab, when he'd done his work for the day and had a few minutes to spare, he took a scraping of some of his own skin cells and put them under the electron microscope.
That's when he found the same strange pattern on his DNA, three green circles intertwined.
He had to sit down at the microscope as he felt the room was about to “swim.” He'd never had panic attacks before, but he imagined this is what they were like. He breathed in deeply and then out.
Getting up slowly and keeping his hand on the edge of the table, he managed to walk over to the water cooler and get a drink of cold water. That helped some, and he was able to clear his head a bit. But now he was really shook and confused. He wondered, How do I have the same markings? He had already come to terms with the fact that he'd received some true information from that acid trip, but now this...
This changes everything, he thought. Now, not only did he need to get away from his job due to the human cells he'd found, but he knew they'd never support an inquiry into this symbol he'd found on the DNA. Something very strange is going on here, far stranger than I had expected, he thought.
It was getting late in the day, so he put his own skin sample in the pocket of his shirt discreetly, so the cameras couldn’t see, and finished whatever tasks he had for the day.
He was going to have to tell the professor about this one and couldn’t wait to stop by his house on the way home to let him know. His heart fluttered with excitement; finally, he was doing some real work with DNA and making breakthroughs!
Not that they were breakthroughs he could share, or even wanted to, with his employers. But that didn’t matter to him. He was doing something real now, something that was going to matter, he just knew it.
That kept him going for the weeks to come as he made plans to leave his job. He was still waiting for word from the Guild, who the professor had said were going to contact him. But so far there had been nothing.
Nothing, as far as Charles could see.
But there were many things going on that Charles could not yet see. The Guild had put Charles under constant surveillance since the professor had spoken to them about Charles and what he’d discovered. This consisted of both electronic and physical surveillance on a 24-7 basis.
The data lines going into Charles's house were tapped using sophisticated, remote methods, including his phones, Internet, and even which TV stations he was watching. The workers for the Guild employed advanced key loggers that worked off the changes in voltage from Charles’s computer screens, and the differences in current going through his AC power connections. Invisible laser beams were aimed at his windows that reflected and recorded any sounds coming from inside. Cameras that could see through walls were also at their disposal. Anything he did inside the house or out was watched and recorded.
Cars outfitted with special gear followed him around as a backup, should the other surveillance methods fail. These cars also provided physical surveillance, as did micro bugs put in Charles's car, clothing, and home—planted in place during stealth entrances. There was nothing Charles did or said that the Guild were not aware of for the weeks leading up to their contacting him.
They had to be sure he was working for the right side, as their mission held the fate of all life forms on Earth in the balance. The surveillance would cease when the group came to a decision, one way or the other, whether to trust Charles and bring him into their fold, or to let him go.
The money for such an expensive surveillance operation came from the vast resources and investments the Guild had obtained over the centuries, due to their knowledge of business and from many who believed in their cause donating fortunes and estates to them. But that was all behind the scenes in hidden money and assets.
The Guild still moved in the shadows as they once did, only now they were on a resurgence and much stronger than they had ever been before.
***
Charles’s boss John Dacks noticed that something was amiss with the work Charles had been doing.
It was during a routine session of number crunching when he realized that Charles was getting less efficient at his tasks. This was odd, as usually the opposite happened, and Charles had been getting faster, until lately.
Charles knocked on the door of his boss’s office, his heart rate going instantly up. “Hi. You wanted to see me?” he managed to squeak out through a suddenly constricted throat.
His boss closed over the folder with the numbers and looked up. “Yes, please take a seat,” John grumbled.
Charles entered and closed the door quietly behind himself. He always hated being “called on the carpet” like this, as it was usually not a good thing. He wondered, Did anyone like such meetings? Probably not. He was sweating.
His boss sat forward and folded his hands. “Charles, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve been going over your performance report and it’s taking you longer to do less work. Is everything alright with you? Problems at home?”
Charles was a bit shocked and didn’t know what to say at first. But he knew this was a good opportunity to give his resignation. “Well, actually…I have been having some trouble completing my tasks to the same degree as before…”
“And why is that?” The boss ruffled up his brow.
“Because I don’t think I’m a good fit here anymore. I was given the impression that I was going to be allowed to designate my own projects after a time. I’ve been here over a year now, and that hasn’t happened.” He looked the boss straight in the eye. Might as well give it to him, he thought.
The boss shook his head. “We run on tight schedules here, you know that. I can’t just take you off your current work so you can follow your fancy.”
Charles smiled tightly, even though the words had stung him. “I guess not. Look, I’ve got it in writing in my job offer letter that I was going to be given a chance for my own projects. If you aren't going to abide by that…”
“You’re going to sue us? Is that it?”
“No, I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to resign and ask for a severance package. No hard feelings.”
The boss stared at Charles for a long moment.
Charles knew he was thinking it over very hard, as there were veins bulging in his head. Charles had the company over a barrel if he wanted, probably. But then all they would have to do if he tried to sue was say they had offered him his own projects. The negative PR would not be worth it to the company, Charles figured. He really didn’t want to go the legal route anyway; he just wanted out.
“OK, Charles. Leave this with me, and I’ll see what I can do for you. I’ll need you to put your resignation in writing.”
“Will do,” Charles said, getting to his feet.
John held out his hand and they shook. “I’m sorry to lose you, Charles.”
“Thanks, but I guess I’ve just got other goals.”
“I understand.” John forced a smile and watched as Charles walked out. Then, John dropped the smile, picked up his phone and dialed.
Charles went back to the lab, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. It’s done, he thought. Now, all I need to do is write it out.
He sat down in front of one of the computers and composed his letter. It was quiet, and he could hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights as he typed. It didn’t take him long to write out, and then he printed it up. He planned to drop it off on his boss’s desk on the way home that day. He gave them two w
eeks notice; fourteen days, including today.
Checking the time, he was mildly surprised that no deliveries had arrived by then. Usually there were packages for him by mid-morning.
But not today, nor during any of the remaining days left in his employment would anything arrive for him. His boss had implemented a company policy that any quitting employees were to be seen as a risk and would not be given any work to do. They would be allowed to wait out their two weeks at the facility if they chose, or at home “on-call.” Most just ended up not coming in.
But Charles didn’t know about this, so he spent the rest of the day cleaning up the lab and thinking about what he’d be doing with the rest of this life. His thoughts went to Stan and the secret group he was working with. Would he be working with them next? It certainly seemed that would be the place for him to be.
He went to lunch, but everyone was oddly cool to him; unfriendly, even. As he was eating alone, getting stares from people he had worked with, he started to get the impression that word had gone out about his quitting. So this is how it is, he thought, shun anyone not towing the company line. Figures.
By the time he’d finished his meal, he’d had it figured out that no packages, and hence no work, were going to arrive for him that day; they had gone to another person. He noticed the head of security, Walter Barnes, sitting in the cafeteria watching him.
When Charles left for the day, Walter was sitting in the company security jeep watching Charles exit the building. They're suspicious of me, Charles thought, shaking his head. He waved to the security chief as he drove out of the parking lot and past the security checkpoint, the guards giving him dirty stares. They must be in on it, too, Charles knew.
The next morning, he phoned his boss about coming in for the days remaining, wondering if there was going to be any work for him, or if he’d be just wasting his time. His boss said he’d let him know if any work came in. None did for the rest of the two weeks.
Halloween night came and trick or treaters walked by the security jeep from HPD, parked a few doors down from Charles's apartment building. Charles handed out candy at the door, wondering if any of those in costume were undercover. He shot dirty looks at the jeep, which he'd seen parked there for days, now, with a rotating series of drivers. It was obvious he was being made to know he was being watched.
But how long were they watching me before I knew? Charles wondered. He shut the door after the costumed critters left.
CHAPTER 25
Charles spent the two weeks with a mixture of relaxing and thinking about his future. What the professor had told him had shaken him deeply, and he was actually glad he had some time off to sort through it all. This he did over many beers and also a few tokes when his buddy Mike dropped by who liked to smoke.
He couldn't tell anyone else what the professor had told him, as he'd promised to keep it a secret. But he did drop some hints to Mike about secret societies and hidden plans, as he knew Mike was into such things.
They were out on the deck behind Charles's rented apartment, toking late one night and discussing conspiracy theories, getting all paranoid. There was a bit of a cool nip in the air, but the warmth of the pot and the numbing of the beers chased it away.
“I don't know if all those different groups could work together behind the scenes.” Mike said and shook his head. “I don't doubt that they exist, but I don't see how it's as coordinated as you think it is.”
“Oh, they're much more organized that you give them credit for!” Charles said, passing over the dube.
“I believe they can be organized, I just don't believe they all see things the same way. Or have the same goals.”
“Several secret groups, then? Fighting for control?”
“Yeah!”
“Mmm-hhh,” Charles said. He wished he could just spill his guts about what he knew, but that might be a death sentence.
Mike took a toke and then passed over the joint. Charles took it and sucked some smoke from it, looking around.
“What's wrong? You seeing things?” Mike giggled.
“I think I'm being watched,” Charles said as he let out a lungful of smoke. “Actually, I'm sure of it.”
“What? By who? For what? Pot?” Mike took the joint back, which was almost gone.
“Not for that. From my last work. I was dealing with some pretty classified stuff. And I quit in a hurry. Maybe they think something was up.” That's all I'm willing to tell him for now, Charles thought.
“Now I do think you're being paranoid!” Mike said. He dropped the roach into the ashtray before his fingers got burned.
“Oh yeah? Come here!” Charles pulled Mike over to the edge of the patio, past a wall, where they could see the street through some trees. The shriveling leaves rattled in the breeze, some of them tumbling to the ground.
“What?”
“Just look. See that jeep there? There's a big guy sitting in it, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Mike peered through the darkness at the jeep sitting on the street.
“Well, that's the security chief from my old job. He's watching me.”
“Like all the time? Doesn't he have to go to the bathroom? What's he do, pee into a cup? Or a bottle!” Mike laughed.
“Maybe he wears diapers for all I know. I've caught him following me a few times. He sits out there in shifts. Another security guy from my old company comes and takes his place every so often.” Charles pulled Mike back behind the wall.
“OK, I see him, but why?”
“That's what I'd like to know. I mean, I didn't do anything to them.” It was burning him up to have to keep the things he'd found out to himself, but he knew it was best to be quiet.
“Maybe they're just pissed about you bailing on them. You said you did work with secret stuff. You had a security clearance, right?”
Charles nodded. “I did. More than one.”
“Well, there you go! That stuff costs a lot for a company to go through. You probably quit too soon for their liking. And, if you were dealing with secret stuff, they'd be concerned. I'd be.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, I was just trying to help!”
“I know, buddy, I know. Come on, let's go back in.” Charles opened the patio door, and they stepped back into his apartment.
What Charles didn't notice was a work van marked as a cable TV company parked further down the street, with a couple of men in it dressed in worker's coveralls who were watching the jeep. And Charles.
The van was filled with cable-installation gear, but hidden under it all was a sophisticated surveillance system consisting of laser microphones, long-distance cameras, and all manner of radio frequency scanners.
The man in the driver's seat, a bald Asian in his late thirties with a large build and a thin mustache, zoomed in with the night vision camera on the security chief in his jeep; the results appeared on the dash monitor. The man in the passenger's seat, a wiry but strongly built black man in his early forties with closely buzzed hair, locked the laser mic on the window of the jeep and turned up the speaker.
“...Come on, bunch of pot heads!...” the security chief said, his voice coming through the speakers in the van. The two men looked at each other and nodded. The voice recorder was started.
“You want to go for a walk, or should I?” the driver asked.
“I don't mind going.” The man in the passenger's seat got out and went to the back of the van. He opened the double doors and stepped inside. He took off his coveralls, revealing regular clothes, with a holster under his arm containing a small gun.
He opened a drawer and took out a small plastic bag with some sort of tiny electronic device, no bigger than a thumbnail. He removed the device from the bag and slipped it into his pocket. Then he opened a cage with a small dog in it.
He took the dog by the leash and carried him out of the van, closing the doors. Then he took the dog for a walk down the street, making for the jeep. In the man's palm he held the device. One side
had an adhesive surface, and he peeled off the protective plastic covering.
As he got close to the jeep, he watched for any sign of a threat. If so, he could have his gun out in a moment. The security chief watched him approach in the mirror, but stayed silent.
The man let the dog sniff at the jeep, then he gave a command to the dog, in a very low voice. The well-trained dog had been waiting for this moment and squatted down to relieve his bowels.
“Oh, Jessie! Why do you always do this on the street!” the man said. He made a show of taking a plastic bag out of his pocket and bending down to pick up the poop right near the back of the jeep. The security chief made a face and rolled up his window as the stink of the dog poop drifted by.
While the man had his back turned, putting the poop into the bag, he slipped the electronic bug under the bumper of the car, fixing it in place.
That done, he got up, tied the bag, and continued to walk the dog right by the jeep. He smiled and waved as he passed the security chief who just looked at him like he was from another planet, in his grumpy way.
Back in the van, the driver flicked through the screen until he saw the signal for the GPS the other man had just installed on the jeep. It was working fine and sending out a signal.
The man with the dog walked around the block and out of sight.
A few minutes later, the van started up and drove away, went a couple of blocks, turned this way and that, and found the man with the dog near a park. He picked them up, and they drove off into the night.
A short time later, a small sports car pulled into a parking spot down from where the van had been, keeping the jeep in sight. The driver was the Asian man from the van. He opened a laptop and confirmed the GPS unit from the jeep was still sending a signal.
He pushed a button on the controls and the camera and laser mic systems came up on the screen. The man sat, watching and listening to the security chief.