The Monolith Murders

by Lorne L. Bentley

“It’s okay, hon, it will be over shortly; and then you will see the old Fred come out of it.”

  She said nothing.

  In a few minutes a stocky man in what Fred guessed was his mid- forties walked in.

  Fred noticed the length of his fingers were disproportionate to his other features. He assumed that was a definite advantage for a surgeon.

  The man held his hand out. “Fred, I’m Dr. Factor, I’ll be doing the operation. I don’t anticipate any problems, so let’s both relax.”

  He grasped Fred’s hand firmly as if to symbolically instill additional confidence in his patient. To Fred, all it meant was that he had a strong handshake.

  “I hope you’re right. But I do have a couple of questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “How can you operate on me, place the device in me, and still leave my skull intact?”

  “We can’t. We have to remove a piece of your skull for two reasons; obviously, so we can insert the unit, and also to allow room in case your brain swells. That’s the same procedure we use in the case of a serious brain injury, due to an automotive accident or a bullet wound to the head.”

  “What undesirable things could happen if the brain swells?”

  “No reason for me to even respond to that, Fred, because nothing bad will happen. If it does, it will be minimal and the segment of the skull we remove will provide plenty of tolerance for expansion. Besides, if there is any swelling, and again I’m sure there will be none, your brain will return to normal in a fairly short time. We would use drugs to counteract any possible expansion of your brain.”

  “Do you replace the part of the skull you took out?”

  “Yes, of course. Normally, any swelling will occur in the first three days. If there’s no swelling, after five days we’ll replace the segment of your skull that we had removed. Of course, if for some reason the device doesn’t function as planned, it also allows us to remove it within that five day window.”

  “You can’t remove it after that?”

  “Oh, sure, it could be removed, but that would require removal of the same section of your skull that we removed previously. So, we wait the safe period before your skull piece is returned. We don’t want to perform that operation a second time. Don’t worry, you’ll be well- bandaged and a piece of sterile plastic will be applied as a temporary cover to prevent infection.”

  “Besides the inflammation of my brain, what else can occur?” Fred had become more and more anxious. Why the hell am I doing this, he thought again to himself.

  “We also have to be careful about bleeding. We will be connecting the miniature wires to parts of your cerebrum and that will require us to surgically open your brain. We will cauterize any areas of bleeding during the operation. But remember, the wires are tiny; so much of the operation will be performed using a medical microscope.

  You should have no problems, Fred.”

  With that, the doctor patted him on the shoulder and left the room. It was obvious that he didn’t want to field any more questions.

  In truth, Dr. Factor couldn’t respond to many more questions. Although he was a neurosurgeon, he had never conducted this type of operation before. The spot in the brain in which the insertion was to take place was responsible for higher brain functions. Specifically, he was going to enter Fred’s parietal lobe which controlled movement, balance and the perception of stimuli. That was always a nasty area for a neurosurgeon to play with.

  For years there had been an ongoing disagreement between the western and the eastern world. The eastern world was rooted in the belief that powers such as ESP existed outside of the body, and such capability was possible only when there was integration between the brain and the metaphysical. Dr. Factor believed in none of that, he knew that all human experiences were processed solely by the human brain, and he also understood the detailed functions of all segments of the brain. The extensive work done at AU had provided him with limited additional insight as to where the ESP capabilities were situated in the brain. The problem from Factor’s perspective was how the functioning brain integrated various activities, and how this device was going to communicate with all the other brain functions. He was delighted that soon Fred was going to be the living experiment that was going to answer that question for him. The optimism concerning the operation that he had conveyed to Fred was false. In truth, he had no idea what was about to happen. But he was delighted that he was about to find out.

  Chapter 51

  Donna took the Amtrak high speed rail to Washington. When she arrived at the cavernous, ornate Union Station she went directly to a phone stall. Removing the yellow pages directory, she fingered through the motel section. Her objective was to find a motel within a short distance from the CIA compound. She found a motel that seemed to meet her objectives in McLean, Virginia; she called asking the clerk how close it was to the CIA headquarters.

  The clerk said, “Oh, it’s only a five minute drive, and if you give me a minute I’ll tell you the price of the room.”

  Satisfied it was within the range of effectiveness for her psychic powers, Donna said, “Cost is not a factor.” She reserved a room.

  Being a fugitive had a labyrinth of negative issues. The first was her fear of being recognized. She resolved that by using an assortment of different color wigs, body altering makeup and various costumes. She was a petite 110 pounds, 35 years old, with thick flowing blonde hair and a symmetrical face that, from a beauty criterion, would easily qualify her to be a Hollywood actress. But now, with latex padding placed at various areas of her body, and a wig which added years to her age, she had become an elderly gray-haired woman, who had lost her body tone to age decades ago. Her dress size had artificially ballooned from a muscle-toned size six to a bulging fourteen.

  She hailed one of the station’s numerous queued taxis. Each driver was patiently seeking customers, hoping their destinations were some distance from the terminal, which would provide them with a source of reasonable income. Donna only had one dress in her present reconstructed configuration; the artificial hair that was part of her flimsy inexpensive wig was already starting to come detached from its skin colored latex base. She told the taxi driver that she wanted to go to Tyson’s Shopping Center and wanted him to wait for her until she completed her round of shopping. The driver was pleased; this was the perfect customer since the meter continued to run while he leisurely read the Washington Post.

  Ironically, Donna walked down the aisles of the huge stores, almost retracing the steps that Maureen had taken a few days earlier. Donna could vaguely sense the past presence of Maureen and Fred just as a dog can detect the scent of a quarry that vacated an area sometime ago. Donna found what she was seeking and returned to the cab.

  She would have preferred to drive her own vehicle, but rental agencies required a credit card for security. And that was a dangerous transaction in her present situation.

  She thought about how she would eventually relocate to a place where the cops would never find her, but first on her priority list was the elimination of Maureen and Fred Harris. She deemed it unfortunate that her sister had failed to eliminate Maureen, but she considered Sue a rank amateur.

  Once Fred and Maureen had been taken care of, she planned to take care of her partner. There was no way she could let him keep his freedom, but for the present he was still useful to her. He did most of the shopping for her and he had taken care of renting her condo unit while she remained in the background. If I have to relocate quickly, she thought, he can find another site for me while I remain undetected.

  Donna had recently added a cane to her disguise, and she had manufactured a slight limp befitting someone of her advanced age and slight arthritic condition.

  The cab pulled into the circular drive adjacent to the motel’s lobby. She paid the cab driver, including a significant tip. She said, “If I need you again, I want you to come right away.”

  Looking at the size of the tip, he said, “Anytime at all, lady, I’ll be
at your beck and call.”

  The run-down motel was not one that she would have selected under normal conditions, but these were not normal times. As she entered, the motel clerk noticed her slight limp and offered her a room on the bottom floor.

  She didn’t care where her room was; her only objective was to pick up mental signals from Fred and Maureen. She had no idea how her brain was able to do that, she only knew that she had to be relatively close to her targets, otherwise the signals would be either too diluted or so weak as to be non–existent.

  Donna had watched the movie Ghost a few years earlier, where Whoopi Goldberg was portrayed as a legitimate psychic. In the movie, Goldberg had attempted to explain how the process worked, but in actuality she had no clue. She had the capability without the knowledge of how or why it worked as it did. Donna didn’t know how hers worked, either; she just knew it did.

  When she first had the device installed over four years ago, she had trained herself to be more and more effective in its application. At first she could mentally insert herself into others as a vaporous fog would invade an area without leaving any tangible trace of its physical existence. But after awhile, she had advanced to the point where she could literally take over a victim’s higher mental processes, creating false memories and altered values. She knew that not everyone was a good subject and it took her time to find those that were. Some could protect themselves with mental blocks just as a well ordered military could protect its flanks with a refined defense.

  She had found Maureen to be an easy subject to manipulate; Fred, a difficult one. Before she had been captured four years ago, she could enter Maureen’s mind at will. She had created false impressions and vivid memories of events for Maureen that had never even occurred.

  Donna knew she had to re-train herself to reach the level that she had previously ascended to. It had been only a short time since she had her insertion operation, and she needed more development time. At her current level she could still enter minds, but she didn’t yet have the sophistication to deposit her special pictures. That will come soon, she thought.

  Her trip to the D.C. area was to find out where her adversaries were and determine if there were vulnerabilities that she could exploit. She could sense their nearby presence just as a hungry lion could detect with absolute certainty the vivid scent of a nearby vulnerable prey.

  * * *

  Fred woke up in what was the CIA’s version of intensive care. He had an IV hooked up to his left arm; as his eyes cleared, Maureen came into his vision.

  “How are you feeling, baby?” she asked with concern.

  “Like I’ve been hit by a truck, but overall not so bad, I guess it must have been a small pickup—maybe a mini-Cooper.”

  Maureen smiled; at least, Fred had not lost his sense of humor. “The IV contains some pain medication,” she told him. “They said you will be in some minor pain for a few days, but they can control it.”

  “I thought the brain can’t feel pain.”

  “That’s true, it can’t; but parts of your head can.”

  Dr. Factor entered Fred’s field of vision. He’s an ugly bastard, Fred thought.

  “How’s my patient?”

  Fred hated it when he was spoken to in the third person.

  “Your patient feels like he is hurting a bit; was the operation on the patient successful?”

  “It went swimmingly; we’ll keep a close eye on you for the next three days. After that you’ll go to a regular room. Late tomorrow we’ll test you to see how the device is working.”

  A distant disembodied voice registered in Fred’s mind as a nail would be drawn to a magnet. “I’m going to be late for lunch with Sally; she’s going to be mad as hell again.”

  “Then you should go,” Fred said.

  “What?” the doctor asked, “Go where?”

  “Go to meet your wife for lunch.”

  The doctor might have known how to insert a paranormal device into a patient and fuse all of its critical connections; but he obviously wasn’t prepared to witness the dramatic effect of its operation.

  “I didn’t say that out loud!” he said in a shocked tone.

  Fred was too tired and too medicated to understand the magic of the moment. He could only mumble, “Well, it sure sounded like you said it out loud.”

  And with that, Fred immediately fell asleep.

  Chapter 52

  Fred stirred from a narcotic-induced sleep. Most of the pain he had experienced the previous night was gone. He looked at his arm; the intravenous hookup had been removed.

  “How are you feeling?” It was a soft male voice from above his bed.

  Fred looked up expecting to see the unpleasant face of Dr. Factor. Instead it was Dr. Cunningham, the person who had administered the marathon of psychological tests the previous week.

  “I guess I’m okay.”

  “Good, then we’ll begin the operational testing.”

  “Isn’t it too soon?”

  “Not at all, Dr. Factor told me that you’re progressing ahead of schedule. He also told me you had picked up some of his thoughts. Congratulations.”

  “Oh, yeah, something about his being late for a meeting with his wife. I thought he had mentioned it out loud.”

  “Not at all; you really surprised the good doctor.”

  “Wouldn’t he have expected it? I mean that is what the operation was supposed to be about.”

  “The doctor was given a road map of where to implant the device and how to make the necessary connections. He worked on your hardware; he had only a general idea of the details of the software contained within.”

  “I see. Now what kind of tests are you going to give me?”

  “Not the written type, I assure you. We’re all over that. I’m just going to determine how well the device works. I don’t expect too much from you early on. It’s just like when a patient starts to walk after an artificial knee replacement; your mental processes will have to slowly start making the adaptation to the new piece of hardware and be conditioned to deal with the unique capability you have been provided with.”

  “Okay,” Fred said testily. “Get on with it.”

  “Fred, I’m thinking of something; I just want you to describe what you see. Give me your best articulated picture of what’s in my mind.”

  The stunning image came to Fred immediately. It was a purple eagle with its razor sharp talons extended; it was viciously devouring a small yellow rabbit with forest green eyes. The eagle’s eyes looked like a raging fire escaping from the gates of hell.

  “Good Lord!” Fred exclaimed.

  “What did you see?”

  Fred told him what he was viewing, including the bizarre colors of the animals.

  “Why did you have to make the scene so damn graphic? I could feel the appalling viciousness of the eagle and the absolute fear from the rabbit as well.”

  “The test actually had degrees associated with it. You might have not obtained an image at all, or you might have obtained the image of an eagle and a rabbit without the colors. However, you picked up the distinctive colors on each of the animals. So you did quite well. In fact you did as well as possible. To a degree, what you were experiencing was clairempathy.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Fred, that’s a type of telepathy to sense or feel within one’s self, the attitude, emotion or ailment of another person or entity. I’m sure that Maureen knows all about that.”

  “I don’t recall having that capability in the past at all.”

  “Well, you had better get prepared, Fred. You will start to experience a rush of new abilities created by that marvelous chip we inserted in you.

  “However, the test I just gave you was in one sense relatively easy. I provided you with a mental picture that was saturated with emotion; and that should be the easiest type for you to decode. In the future we’ll be asking you to pick up on signals with a more placid, subtle subject area that will be exponentially more difficul
t for you. I want to warn you. Even though your ESP improvement is positive news, as is your healing progress, we still have to worry about you with respect to your emotions.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “Remember we operated on your cerebrum; unfortunately some nerves had to be cut in the process. We don’t believe this will happen, in fact the possibility is—”

  “Get on with it. What could happen?”

  “We’re not entirely sure. You could become somewhat more—more emotional.”

  Fred watched Dr. Cunningham closely. His eyes were directed downward, avoiding Fred’s face. Fred sensed something was not right.

  “You’re covering up something—tell me straight.”

  “The area of the brain we’re most concerned about is the seat of your emotions. To put it bluntly, you could display uncontrolled hatred, even toward your loved ones. That could happen, if for some reason the control segment of your brain was impacted. You might be comparable to a severe stroke victim where the control of your emotions is, for all practical purposes, gone. In the case of a stroke victim, that might mean he will swear a lot and it could occur during inappropriate times. But in your case, you also have unparalleled mental powers which could be unknowingly unleashed with disastrous results.

  “I’m sure that won’t happen; but remember, there has been a major disruption of the circuits of your brain. Part of that disruption is caused by cutting parts of your brain; but generally the normal healing process will take care of that. The brain is highly adaptive, and we know that other parts of the brain can take over if one segment is damaged. If the damage is not major, the time frame will be short; if major, it can take considerably more time. Frankly, I’m not worried very much about that issue. Our neurosurgeons have had decades to map the brain and a lot of experience with brain operations. I don’t see that as much of a potential problem.”

  Fred said, “But I understand the brain operations they normally conduct is nothing similar to the one I had. What other problems could occur?”