‘I could do with someone checking me over. I have a feeling that something inside me… I mean… something that’s not usually inside me… I mean not intended to be there… I mean, somebody’s put something inside me that I haven’t asked to be put inside me….’
How embarrassing, she was in the company of the President of the USA and was rambling euphemisms by the bucket load. She blushed as best as androids can. This prompted a few uncontrollable grins from her audience.
‘No problem, we’ll get our technicians to check you over,’ said the President remaining professional at all times.
Chapter 34: A golden moment
Madeline had saved the planet – again. How could they refuse her? The President organised a helicopter to pick her up. She was becoming accustomed to this form of transport. It was certainly different from the last time she was taken to Bangor, Maine – in a limo, in-between two beefy men wearing dark sun glasses. The 450 mile trip would take well under two hours – a good opportunity to talk to her father figure.
‘Barton, are you there…’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘How is the precious cargo in Barton’s Meats of chilly Buxton?’
‘You’re heart rates steady and normal, drug free now. The gel suit appears to be helping your skin to heal nicely...’
‘Good… that’s… good.’
This was perhaps too much information, she decided to change the subject.
‘Have you heard from Adam?’
‘No, not a peep.’
‘Okay, keep me informed.’
‘Will do.’
Madeline found it nice and comforting to have the occasional short chat with Barton. He was there most of the time and she could chat to him any time she wanted but she knew it wasn’t wise to have too much of a good thing.
A good hour of the flight passed peacefully. She flew over New York and saw the Statue of liberty then she flew over New London, New Bedford and New Manchester – she almost felt at home.
And then the relaxing peaceful journey abruptly came to an end. Madeline didn’t need to go to the HDU4 facilities because suddenly, without warning, she found out exactly what Nuttall’s people had put inside her. Her mouth opened involuntarily and after a second or two, the pilot and co-pilot started to behave strangely. They stopped their idle chatter, sat upright and started saying things like: ‘I obey’, ‘will comply’ and ‘I understand master’.
‘I suppose you deserve an explanation,’ said Nuttall in Madeline’s head.
‘U-all! Ooo arr-ole… ot er ell?’ Madeline couldn’t speak too well with her mouth wide open.
She took the jamming device out of her pocket and checked to see if the green light was still glowing – it was.
‘I have to admit it was fortunate having a junior clerk working in the Situation room. He a little play with your jamming device.’
‘Ow ong ave ou een is-en-ing?’
‘Long enough to know everything… What a nice chap Barton is, isn’t he?’
This was bad, very bad indeed. She tried to remember exactly what she said - then she remembered. She gave the entire game away in one short sentence: How is the precious cargo in Barton’s Meats of chilly Buxton. He only had to put two and two together and he would know. Even if he didn’t add the numbers up, his men were probably already on their way to Buxton to see exactly what the precious cargo was. She was now vulnerable and this was very worrying. Her mouth now closed, the pilot and co-pilot were completely under the spell.
‘What’s happened to the pilot and co pilot?’
‘You’ve done it, that’s what we did to you. We turned you into a mobile ultrasound emitter – we can program you to have the same effect as the horns you unnecessarily destroyed at our very expensive Antarctica base.’
‘Done what? What the hell have I done?’
The pilot and co pilot didn’t seem to be bothered that their passenger was yelling angrily to herself.
‘Let me spell it out. We have modified your speech system to emit an ultrasound signal.’
‘Irritating I admit but completely pointless if I don’t cooperate.’
‘Madeline, Madeline… I know what scares you. Other people it’s spiders, for you it’s fire. That shop in Buxton… I suspect it will burn up a treat… What do you think Barton?’
‘Barton? Are you there!?’ inquired Madeline in astonishment.
‘Come on Barton, say a few words… please,’ said Nuttall menacingly.
‘Sorry Madeline, couldn’t stop them. They know everything,’ said Barton.
‘Shit… Don’t worry about it, Pops, I’ll sort a way out of this,’ said Madeline confidently.
As things go, they really couldn’t get any worse. Nuttall now knew Madeline’s most closely guarded secret. No longer could she confide in Barton with her troubles and no longer did she have a feeling of invincibility – her real body was now threatened with fire - by far her worst phobia.
‘Nuttall face facts, it’s all over. You don’t have the emitters at the South Pole anymore,’ said Madeline, scratching around for points.
‘They served their purpose,’ said Nuttall.
‘But everybody’s now friends again,’ said Madeline.
‘That was the whole point but do you really think that was the main purpose of the South Pole array? I’ve told you, there’s far more afoot than just irritating the Americans. Let me make it clearer for you… the name at the end of the messages?
‘You mean Mark Titoo? Madeline suggested.
‘Well… yes. We got the translations slightly wrong but yes, Mark Titoo.’
Madeline wasn’t following Nuttall at all, she needed it spelling out even more.
‘It seems that we’re now all conditionally programmed,’ explained Barton solemnly.
‘Give the man a biscuit – precisely, a name tagged on to the hate America message – that name is now implanted in everyone’s subconscious. All it will take is an ultrasound transmission with that name and an instruction and people will do exactly what we tell them just like the pilot and co-pilot in front of you,’ said Nuttall proudly.
‘So what exactly are you hoping to achieve? Such an elaborate, intricate and expensive scheme, you must have some huge expectations?’ asked Madeline.
‘You really don’t grasp the implications, do you? We now control the world, control everyone.’
‘The sound of a true megalomaniac. You do realise you’re insane, very clever but completely, utterly insane… So where am I been taken?’
‘You’ll find out shortly, call it our first test.’
This then, it transpires was the point of the ultrasound brainwashing. The whole world had been targeted; no one escaped hearing the ultrasound. The message in the ultrasound was to hate the USA but it seems this was just something convenient to pad out the message. A hidden subliminal trigger at the end of the message which just happened to be an innocent name – Mark Titoo was the important bit. There was a count down timer on the console panel in the Antarctica base which Madeline took no notice of. When the timer reached zero, which happened to be almost two days before the flotilla reached American shores, the ultrasound was to be switched off – job done – world conditionally programmed.
Obviously the Americans didn’t know this - they panicked and sent a nuclear missile.
Shortly, was the wrong word. It was still a pleasant flight however, high over the Appalachian Mountains and then the beautiful green lands of Charleston. She had absolutely no idea where she was going, she didn’t really care. Her thoughts were with Adam – where was he? How was he? Was he even still alive? How the hell, was she going to find him with the control Nuttall had over her?
She had to find a way of finally shielding herself from his communications – that would give her some breathing space. Then she had to make safe her tank and her real body. Then she had to protect Barton, she owed her life to him countless times – it was the least she had to do. She had an awful lot of challen
ges facing her. For now though, she had to go along with this ‘experiment’. As long as no lives were in danger, she would go through with it – that would be the condition – even if she knew was in no position to make conditions.
Two and a half hours later, the helicopter landed slap bang in the middle of a large complex consisting of many bland flat roofed concrete buildings, office building and countless large car parks. Madeline had no idea where she was or why the helicopter should be greeted by dozens of heavily armed American soldiers.
‘Okay, where are we and what have I got to do?’ asked Madeline apprehensively.
‘United States Bullion Depository, otherwise know as Fort Knox.’
‘You have got to be kidding me.’
‘Just a little robbery.’
‘Forget it, I’m robbing no bank,’ said Madeline adamantly.
‘You’re not, just get out, stand there and look pretty,’ said Nuttall inside her head.
‘How much are you going to take, gold bars are heavy you know?’
‘A few.’
‘How the hell…?’
‘Get out, look pretty and watch,’ said Nuttall officiously.
If that’s all Madeline had to do, there was no problem. She was extremely good at looking pretty, it was her main talent. She climbed out of the helicopter and before her feet touched the ground, twenty or so high powered rifles were pointing directly at her.
A single armed guard, beefier than the rest, bawled at her, ‘Hands up, legs apart, on the floor!’
‘Okay, okay, patience,’ said Madeline in her usual cheeky tone. ‘Now then, what was it? Oh yes… hands up.’
She put her hands up.
‘Legs apart, on the floor.’
She slid down in to the splits position.
‘Anything else?’
The experience of being frozen stiff for several days in the South Pole, it has to be said, hadn’t affected her flexibility or marred her stunning looks in anyway. The armed guards were well trained and didn’t appear to be distracted at all by the gymnastic display from the gorgeous provocative visitor. These guards were made of sterner stuff. They were American’s finest, specially chosen to protect the gold reserves of the USA. In fact it wasn’t until Madeline opened her mouth and emitted the subtle and silent ultrasound signal that things began to change. Presumable there were complex instructions in the message as all the guards stood perfectly still for about twenty seconds whilst they processed what their subconscious had heard.
From out of nowhere came a convoy of six butch looking black trucks with enormous eight axle trailers. The noise of the trucks drowned out the sound of the helicopter taking off behind her. The first of the convoy skilfully reversed up to a particularly ugly concrete building in the centre of the complex. Many guards now gathered, organised themselves and within minutes were loading the truck with another convoy of fork lift trucks. The fork lift trucks were each loaded with a quantity of gold ingots. After ten minutes the weight of the valuable cargo was taking its toll on the truck’s suspension. Sixty tons was its limit and that’s exactly how much weight of gold was loaded in the back of the trailer. The loading process was then repeated on the next truck. It was like a perfectly choreographed dance, no one put a foot wrong or a fork lift truck at the wrong height or a truck in the wrong place. Madeline remained in the splits position helplessly agape as she witnessed the biggest robbery in history taking place before her eyes - Three billion dollars worth of gold in each of the six trucks. She, of course, had no choice but to remain speechless whilst emitting the brainwashing message - It was extremely difficult to talk properly with her mouth wide open. All credit to the modus operandi of the crime however; there was no violence, no injuries and absolutely no deaths.
Her mouth remained wide open, the ultrasound continued - she casually looked around. She got to her feet and considered running… somewhere… out of audible range of the base. Unfortunately Nuttall annoyingly had a kind of sixth sense.
‘Don’t think of going anywhere or its phobia time,’ said Nuttall failing completely to be nice.
Madeline did as she was told. She helplessly watched all the trucks drive off the base whilst the guards stood motionless, slightly swaying in the breeze. After twenty nine minutes her mouth closed, at last she could talk properly, so she said something.
‘Nuttall, you are a complete bastard.’
Almost immediately the soldiers snapped out of their hypnotic state, quickly got there bearings, raced over to Madeline and arrested her.
It may have been a daring and ambitious robbery but there seemed to be a couple of glaring absurdities that even Madeline had foreseen: Firstly, the convoy of trucks would be blatantly conspicuous and couldn’t possibly get very far in just 29 minutes. Secondly, if the trucks did manage to get away, what the hell, would they do with near on three thousand gold bars. Who would be brave or insane enough to take them off their hands?
Madeline went quietly, she saw no reason to fight, complain or struggle. Clearly the on site CCTV would show that she had no part in the crime other than sit there in the splits with her mouth wide open. She had to be questioned, that was procedure. Once again she found herself in a small holding room with nothing else to do but continue watching Prisoner Cell Block H.
As predicted the six trucks were found no more than fifteen miles away, all lined up and deserted. There was an overwhelming sense of relief by all concerned. The gold was surely still inside. It wouldn’t have been possible to remove, transfer or dispose of 360 tons of gold in such a short time. At first glance, it appeared to be a very daring but pointless robbery.
Eventually, after patiently waiting two hours for several top security guards to arrive, the police wrenched open the first of the trailers rear doors - to their utter disbelief, it was completely empty. This was the case for all the other five trucks, the gold had gone. Not a single bar remained. It was rapidly developing into the crime of the century – perhaps millennium.
Everyone put it down to a trick of the light but the leaves on the countless beech trees either side of the road seemed to radiate a distinct golden tinge in the sunlight.
Chapter 35: A fake Irish accent
In a motel room somewhere insignificant, a television was playing to itself, showing the Vixen News channel. Carol, the news girl was especially excited with the latest news flash.
‘Good evening. We start with breaking news about a gold heist at Fort Knox. Let go over to Bernard Carp who is at the scene. What can you tell us about the robbery, Berny?’
‘Good evening Carol. Well this may well indeed, turn out to be the robbery of all time. Many of the pieces are now being put together. It has been revealed that a total of three thousand, I repeat, three thousand gold bars were stolen from the vault. That’s approximately eighteen billion dollars worth, right under the noses of the security staff.’
‘Do they know where it has been taken?’ asked Carol.
‘This is where the whole thing gets surreal. The gold was loaded into six trucks which were found just fifteen miles down the road.’
‘So they’ve found the gold then?’
‘No, the trucks were empty, all the gold had gone.’
‘What, all three thousand bars?’
‘Apparently… Hang on a second, there seems to be developments. The director of the bullion depository is about to comment…’
‘Today between 14:35 and 15:00 hours a large quantity of gold ingots were stolen from the depository. An estimated 360 tons of 24 carat gold was loaded into six trucks. These trucks have been found but the gold has gone. Scientists are now investigating a theory involving corrosive liquids stored in tanks in the roofs of the trailers. It is feasible that a mixture of acids known as aqua Regis could under ideal conditions, possibly disperse the gold but at the moment this is pure conjecture. This is an unprecedented event and as yet we are amiss to know why this has been done. Are there any questions?’
‘Bernard Carp, Vixen News. The
closing markets today have shown a huge hike in the price of world gold stocks. Anyone owning gold has benefited immensely out of this crime wouldn’t you say?’
‘I can’t comment on that.’
‘Bernard Carp, Vixen News again, apparently a British Agent Madeline Bull was on the scene at the time and may be involved, can you confirm this?’
‘Miss Bull was indeed in the complex at the time and is been held for questioning although CCTV shows that she played no part in the robbery.’
‘That may be so Director, but isn’t it true that trouble always seems to follow the British agent Madeline Bull around…?’ probed Bernard.
‘…Any further questions?’ interrupted the Director.
The camera panned away from the Director, Carol had a much more important question to ask.
‘Berny, does any one know what Madeline was wearing?’
‘Yes apparently a short pleated maroon skirt, short grey leather jacket with tassels and high heel grey leather boots,’ said Bernard pertinently.
‘Hmm, tassels. They must be in then?’ said Carol intrigued.
‘Yes and the latest colours, maroon and grey,’ said Berny, thoughtfully.
‘So that’s where you are!’ said someone putting on a false Irish voice, in the insignificantly located Motel room.
For the first time Madeline was disillusioned, defeated, disheartened and many other words beginning with D. Any one of her weapons would be sufficient to get her out of the holding room but what was the point. Where would she go? What would she do? She was trapped by her phobia. She didn’t want to be burnt, cooked, poached or singed ever again – she would rather die than go through anything like that again.
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