“Look, we’ve been safe here for months,” Melissa pointed out. “If something evil wanted to kill us, it would have shown up by now. We’d be dead—we’d all be dead. I think we need to give God a little credit here for watching out for us.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Preach it, sister,” he said, enjoying the irony. “That kind of talk is a far cry from what I remember coming out of you.”
“Don’t go there, Malcolm,” Melissa said, trying unsuccessfully to sound annoyed. Brian shook his head, chuckling softly.
“Hey, I teach at a Catholic college and live with a Hebrew scholar,” she said, folding her arms. “It rubs off.”
“Getting back to how you got off the base,” Brian said, looking at Malcolm. “If Dee was basically unconscious, what do you know about your release?”
“When we asked about how he pulled it off, Neff was evasive. All he said was that he’d negotiated our freedom. No kidding, right? The State Department people on the plane weren’t any help, either.”
“The State Department?” Brian asked.
“Yeah. The Air Force handed us over to State, and they flew us overseas to Tel Aviv. When we landed, some Israeli soldiers turned us over to two of Neff’s people, who were waiting for us. One of them was Israeli, too.”
“What’s with the Israeli connection?”
“Beats me,” Malcolm replied. “Neff’s people didn’t waste any time. There was a guy named Ward. The Israeli was a woman named Nili. The soldiers handed us over to them in a medical room in the airport. Nili swept us for tracking devices.”
“You’re kidding,” Melissa said and looked at Brian. “Who are these people?”
“I don’t know, but she knew her business. Really professional. You could tell she’d done this sort of thing before. I was impressed.”
“You mean you were smitten,” Dee said matter-of-factly. “Some priest.”
“She’s exaggerating,” he protested.
“Think Salma Hayek as paramilitary Barbie, and you get the picture.”
“That’s pretty accurate,” Malcolm acknowledged with a grin. Dee rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, it’s a good thing they thought of sweeping us for bugs. Nili found something on Dee.”
“You mean in me,” Dee corrected him with a look of disgust on her face.
Brian and Melissa looked questioningly at her.
“I’ll let Malcolm tell it. He was the one awake, not me, thank God.”
Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Brian and Melissa exchanged a curious glance.
“I might as well be direct,” he said. “Dee had some sort of implant in her rectum.”
“Good night,” Brian gasped.
“It gets stranger. I expected Nili to call a doctor when she found it. Instead, she took it out herself with no anesthetic. I guess she didn’t need it since Dee was out, but it took me by surprise. She and her partner, the guy named Ward, huddled up to make the decision, and then she just cut it out. It was close to the surface, so it wasn’t complicated, but it was just weird. They obviously didn’t want anyone to know what they’d found or what they decided to do about it.”
“I’ll say it again,” said Melissa, “who are these people?”
“On the flight, Dee had some bleeding. She was in and out of consciousness. They had some over-the-counter medication on board that they managed to get Dee to swallow. Nili eventually made contact with a doctor, who met us in the US. Dee wasn’t in any real trouble, but I think Nili thought she might be in over her head.”
“What did she do with the implant?”
“This is sweet,” Dee said, mustering a smile. “I was fine with my sore butt when I heard the Colonel would be ticked off.”
Malcolm laughed and flashed a wide smile. “Yeah, it was pretty funny. Before we took off, Nili took the implant and put it in a wad of chewing gum. When we went outside to get on their jet, she stuck it to a baggage cart.”
“I love it,” Melissa grinned.
“So for some reason the Colonel couldn’t prevent you from leaving, but he was determined to follow you,” Brian said.
“I’d say that’s certain. He’s probably wondering by now why we’re wandering in circles in the Tel Aviv airport.”
“So it’s pretty obvious that the Colonel is behind my pregnancy,” Dee interjected. “And that’s the only reason I need to get rid of it. The first safe path I see for that, it’s a done deal.”
“It’s still hard to believe the Colonel didn’t prevent you from leaving,” Melissa wondered aloud, “especially if he has an interest in the pregnancy. Why not tell whoever was pressuring him that you were too ill to travel, or fake your death—something?”
“He isn’t God,” Malcolm said. “I’m guessing he didn’t feel either of those ideas would be worth the risk.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Once the State Department made a demand, he couldn’t really do anything but agree without prompting a demand for justification, and maybe an inquiry. Whoever was making the demand above him wouldn’t settle for any refusal without a verifiable reason. The Colonel may have figured he didn’t have time to come up with something foolproof. It’s not like he was expecting any of this. Who in the world would even know where Dee was? Getting asked about her whereabouts must have caught him completely by surprise.”
“That seems reasonable,” Brian said thoughtfully. “And you raise a good question—how did Neff’s people ever find the two of you? If they really don’t know exactly where you were located, they must have asked somebody at a high level of authority about you—someone who at least knew you both had been drafted into a project by the Air Force.”
“Sounds logical, but only Neff can explain all that.”
“So when you got to the States, Neff’s people took you to the house in Maine?” Brian asked. “Then what?”
“We were met there by another woman—the doctor Nili had contacted,” Malcolm answered. “Her name was Clarise. She gave Dee a thorough checking. It was a good thing she was there, since Dee needed attention and some nursing back to health. After about a week we flew to another house in Michigan, and we’ve been there ever since. We overheard Neff talking about Andrew, and we insisted on coming. That’s how we got here.”
Brian sat quietly, looking at the floor, his arms on his knees, hands clasped. “Andrew … How many times have we mentioned him?” He looked up at the faces of his friends. “I wish he were here.”
“We all do, man,” Malcolm said, placing his hand firmly on Brian’s shoulder.
“He’d know how to proceed.”
“I’ll bet he would, but we’ll know, too. God will make it clear when it needs to be clear. We just have to have our eyes and hearts ready and open.”
“No doubt. There are just so many questions that still need answering.”
“Neff could no doubt help there,” Malcolm answered, “but don’t expect much. When we were in Father Fitzgerald’s office we didn’t learn much. Father Fitzgerald said that he had gotten worried about Andrew when he hadn’t heard from him for almost two months. His attempts to find information about Andrew somehow led to me, but I’m still fuzzy on the details. He didn’t lay it all out. And I don’t know how Dee got into the picture. We only had a few minutes in the office. I’m positive that even though Neff got us off the base, he doesn’t know where we actually came from.”
“So what do you think he does know?” Brian asked.
“That we were somewhere in the Southwest. He told us he suspected we were being held against our will but wasn’t completely sure until they found out about Dee.”
“I obviously don’t know what you’ve shared with Neff,” Dee interrupted, glancing first at Brian and then Melissa, “but it’s certain he’s going to suspect your circumstances are connected to ours.”
“You know,” said Melissa, voicing a realization that had just occurred to her, “judging by Neff’s reaction when he saw that we all knew each oth
er, it seems certain President Fitzgerald hasn’t said anything to Neff about our circumstances. He wouldn’t have been so surprised if Father Fitzgerald had given him information about us.”
“That makes sense,” replied Malcolm. “But despite that, I think the only people we know we can trust are right here in this room.”
They exchanged glances, nodding. They knew instinctively that Malcolm was right.
“But Neff’s smart,” Brian noted after a moment, with some apprehension. “He’s going to be suspicious.”
“And our sense of urgency about meeting right away today will only feed that suspicion,” Malcolm guessed, “despite not knowing the details.”
“For sure,” Melissa added, feeling a bit more exposed.
“So what’s our story?” Malcolm asked. “Time for some Jesuit ethics.”
Brian couldn’t help laughing. “No matter what the situation, you’re on your game, Malcolm. I wish Andrew were here to have heard that.”
“Oh, he’d probably laugh, then launch into a sermon reminding us of how the order and most of the Church is spiritually corrupt—that we have to be the guardians. If there was a pulpit in the room, he’d pound it a few times to make the point.”
“That sounds true to form.”
“But you know what I’m talkin’ about, man. God used deception in the Bible to preserve life and His people. Until we know who we’re dealing with, we’re all at genuine risk. Don’t tell me you don’t agree—you’re the one pretending to be married, here.”
“I know, I know …”
“So what does he know for sure about the two of you?” Melissa asked.
Malcolm looked at Dee, unsure of the precise answer.
“He knows I’m a psychologist and that Malcolm is a scientist,” she answered.
“He might know I’m a priest, too, given his relationship to Father Fitzgerald,” Malcolm mused. “Andrew and I worked together a lot over the past few years. Like I told you, my name came up in that connection, but I’m not sure about details. I’m betting he’s done background checks on all of us—you with your new names, of course—so he probably knows where we went to school and our work history, that sort of stuff.”
“We’re making this too hard,” Melissa observed. “Let’s tell him the truth—at least part of it. We’ll tell him we were part of a group working this summer to study the religious and psychological impact of various crises caused by global warming. We’ll tell him we left after a couple of weeks because Brian and I were being pursued. That puts us all together for a little time and fits with what he knows about us already. All we need to do is find an event in the Southwest that’ll match the cover story. It shouldn’t be that hard—someone’s always getting paid to spend a summer talking about global warming.”
“Missy, I love it when you’re cynical,” Malcolm joked. “That’s perfect.”
“Thanks,” she replied, smiling, then added, “And I thought I told you last summer to never call me Missy.”
Malcolm laughed. “You remembered!”
“One more thing,” Dee said seriously, looking at Melissa. “You both need to get examined for implants.”
“She’s right,” Malcolm agreed. “Around here, X-rays are the easiest way.”
“But we haven’t had any problems here. I don’t think—”
“I’m dead serious, honey,” Dee cut Melissa off. “I know you’re about to say that if you were being tracked, they’d have already come for you. But let me ask you: How do you know that? What if they’re just biding their time?”
“That doesn’t seem logical,” Melissa tried to counter.
“Yeah, I know—kind of like the last six months of our lives.”
20
To erase or “de-pattern” personality traits, Cameron gave his subjects megadoses of LSD, subjected them to drug-induced “sleep therapy” for up to 65 consecutive days, and applied electroshock therapy at 75 times the usual intensity. To shape new behavior, Cameron forced them to listen to repeated recorded messages for 16-hour intervals, a technique known as “psychic driving.”
—Washington Post, July 28, 1985, quoting the Congressional Record of the Senate, 99th Congress, 1st Session, Volume 131, No. 106, Part 2, p. 131, in regard to the mind-control work of psychiatrist Dr. Ewen Cameron, former President of the Canadian, American and World Psychiatric Associations, while in the employ of the CIA
“How are things proceeding, Becker?” Colonel Ferguson asked, gazing through the two-way glass.
“Wonderfully,” came the assured answer. Dr. Becker fastidiously surveyed the settings of the equipment panel before which he was seated. “Once we were able to locate her history, the programming path was clear.”
“How long yet?” the Colonel asked.
“A few more days. We didn’t have to produce another alter. Just needed to take her driving for a couple weeks.”
“Good.”
“The task you’ve assigned her is straightforward. If there are any other directions, now would be the time to implant them.”
“I don’t need anything else from her. All the details are in place. The media will be led to the right conclusions.” The Colonel turned to leave.
“Have a good Thanksgiving, Vernon,” Dr. Becker said, reaching for a knob on the panel. “I presume you’ll take in the football game—I won’t be paying for dinner this year.”
“Oh, I’ll be … watching,” the Colonel said, not bothering to turn around so he could conceal his amusement at his choice of words. “We’ll see.”
Dr. Becker watched the secured door close behind the Air Force officer. He adjusted his glasses and then flipped a switch on the panel, signaling his assistant on the other side of the glass to reinsert the bite guard into the prone girl’s mouth. The assistant stepped back, and the bespectacled psychiatrist calmly turned the knob. Becky’s body jerked to rigidity as the electrical impulse surged through the electrodes and into her brain.
“Such a good patient.”
21
Actions are the seed of fate; deeds grow into destiny.
—Harry S. Truman
“Why would you ask if I could arrange X-rays for you and your husband?” Neff inquired, wearing a perplexed expression. He scanned the four faces before him. He, Malcolm, Dee, Melissa, Brian, and Malone were now seated in the lounge of the campus guest house, the agreed upon point of rendezvous after the impromptu meeting in Melissa’s office.
Malcolm took the initiative to answer. “We told them all about Dee’s implant.”
“Why would Dr. Harper’s … unusual circumstances … be a concern?” Neff asked.
“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” Melissa replied, searching for a workable answer, “and I didn’t pry, but Dee thinks the intelligence community or military had something to do with what was put in her. Our own problems,” she added, glancing at Brian, “are connected to an intelligence agency as well.”
“Fascinating,” Neff said thoughtfully, looking from Melissa to Brian, then back again.
“I don’t want to say more,” Melissa continued. “I just don’t like the coincidence.”
“Coincidences can be unnerving,” Neff replied as he studied her face.
“Well?” Brian asked.
“I’m not sure if an X-ray is wise, Melissa, since you’re pregnant. Have you considered that?”
“I did a little research on that in my office before we had to leave. Everything I read said it wouldn’t cause any harm,” Melissa countered.
“I’d need to ask our own doctor about that,” Neff responded. “I’d trust her opinion. But I’m not sure if we could arrange it anyway.”
“You don’t have your own machine?” Malcolm asked. Neff looked at him, his face showing some irritation. “Sorry, I guess that was a little out of line,” Malcolm apologized. “It’s just that you guys seem to have, well, everything.”
“To satisfy your curiosity, Dr. Bradley, yes, we have our own X-ray machine. But it’s at home.” Neff didn
’t say it, but the implication was clear: They weren’t invited to headquarters.
“Have you really thought this through?” Malone joined the conversation. “A hospital or clinic will want a good reason to give a pregnant woman an X-ray. They might agree that the danger is minimal, but they’ll still ask questions. You can’t just tell them you want to know if you’re carrying a tracking implant. You’d wind up under psychiatric observation.”
“Well, to be honest, I hadn’t considered that,” Melissa said, wistfully. “I guess I was hoping it could be arranged with someone who wouldn’t ask questions.”
“They’d have to, if for no other reasons than liability. The only way you’d avoid the questions is to find a friend who can do it.”
“Yes,” Neff said, a look of satisfaction appearing on his face. “You’d have to trust someone—namely, us, presuming we could arrange it. But the two of you have had a difficult time with that. Wouldn’t you consider getting on a plane with Malone and me taking a serious risk?” His sarcasm was light, but clear.
Brian and Melissa didn’t protest—they couldn’t. The lounge fell silent for a few uncomfortable moments.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Neff finally said, knowing he’d won the exchange. “Our doctor, Clarise, has a lot of contacts, some of whom have done business with us before. Perhaps she can call in a favor with someone who can get access to a machine. But there’s one other consideration.”
“Go on,” Melissa asked.
“What if they find something?”
“Then I’d want it removed … by your Clarise.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. What if you were targeted like Dr. Harper? The fact that someone did that to her suggests she and the baby have some importance.”
“And what about staying in North Dakota?” asked Malone. “Dr. Harper’s implant was obviously for tracking. If we were to find an implant, we’d have to assume that whoever you’re running from and whoever implanted Dr. Harper were the same people.”
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