Confabulation (The Department)

by Ronald Thomas

  CHAPTER 46

  The sun poured through the small window at the back of the bedroom and Simon felt the tightness of his captivity begin to yield. After the long weeks of blindness had passed, they were replaced by the grip of fear and anxiety. Simon had exorcised those emotions.

  He embraced anger and even hate to gain control.

  That control came at a price. Those emotions placed him in simply another prison—one of obsession. He kept his hate at the front of his mind, and focused all of his energy on fighting the desire to act immediately.

  He watched the light of the sun flood the room. The beams were like a coming salvation. His time of justice was at hand, and the impatience that had plagued his mind for several days seemed inconsequential. The long wait had ended, and all that remained was preparation. He could finally act on his needs, and his fingers and hands flexed and danced with nervous energy.

  In the early hours of the day, more the middle of the night actually, Jackson had interrupted Simon’s sleep to inform him of the recent developments. The haze of being woken up dispersed quickly with the wonderful news that flowed from Jackson’s lips. Throughout the night, Jackson had negotiated with those responsible for Simon’s previous condition in order to arrange a meeting.

  Simon felt his heart leap at the thought of coming face to face with the people behind the photographs he had learned to hate. Jackson had to repeat the plan many times in order to make sure his words got through Simon’s excited haze. After several explanations, Simon understood that Jackson had promised to bring Simon and some information in order to offer an exchange. Jackson would offer Simon and would in turn set up a schedule of payments to secure his silence.

  The more Simon thought of the impending meeting, the more difficult it was to focus on Jackson’s words. Jackson continued to explain the details of the plan to Simon, though many of the finer points were lost in the dream of retribution. From what Simon managed to remember, Jackson intended to keep him safe despite the promise of exchange—at least that is what he wanted Simon to believe. Simon didn’t care if it was a lie or the truth. He had his own plan, and it didn’t involve being safe. He didn’t need safety, nor did he need money. He needed justice, and he knew how to get what he needed.

  He also knew where to find retribution. Simon stepped away from the window, bent over, and drew his justice from beneath the bed. He held the cool judge in his hand and smiled at his reflection in the fearless steel. The device gleamed in the early morning sun, and his soul lit up with the glow. The opportunity he waited for was at hand, and in his hands was what he needed to take advantage of that opportunity.

  The sun rose higher in the sky, and the beams began to warm his back. The cold despair lifted from him as easily as the early morning dew from the grass. He stood tall, like a plant reaching for life, and felt more human than he had in weeks. His ally in revenge welcomed the warm rays and seemed to melt into Simon’s hand to become part of him. He wrapped his fingers around the grip and imagined the meeting that would take place just beyond his sight.

  He could picture himself waiting around the corner of some dark warehouse. In the main room, Jackson would be posturing and negotiating. Maybe he would be selling out Simon, and maybe he would be deceiving the evil perpetrators. Simon couldn’t care less. He held his vengeance in his hand, and he would use it regardless.

  His vision was clear. His course of action was obvious. He knew the conversation would end at some point. Jackson would make the final move in his plan, and then Simon would take the stage. Whether betrayed or preparing to celebrate, he would take his measure of justice. From around the corner, he would appear, holding the pistol, and enjoying the surprise in the faces before him. They would pay for what they did to him. Their blood would pour from their bodies like the forgiveness that could never come from Simon. He hoped they would beg for that forgiveness, knowing it was dammed behind a think wall of hate.

  He couldn’t picture Jackson’s reaction. Simon thought he might be angry, or he might be horrified. Hell, he might be amused as far as Simon knew. It didn’t matter. Simon would walk past Jackson and over to the jerking, bleeding bodies. Once there, he would watch the life leave their worthless forms in a dark ooze. Once the life was gone, he could finally be free of the compulsion that drove him. He would finally be able to return to his life. Standing over their cooling, stiffening, rotting bodies, he would be free. And he would laugh.

  CHAPTER 47

  The phone rested in his hand, frozen by shock and anticipation. Henry had been waiting for call, but was completely unprepared when it arrived. He had been watching football for the first time since contact when his phone rang. When he saw the number on the screen, he considered ignoring the call. He knew the meeting would wait for him, and he hadn’t enjoyed a lazy weekend afternoon in some time. The third ring passed, and he decided that he couldn’t put his destiny on hold, regardless of how much time was left.

  Jackson’s now familiar voice spoke from the other end of the connection and informed him of the location and time of the meeting. Henry paid careful attention to the details, as Jackson went through the list of who he felt would be there. Among those who he was bringing together were other victims, and those responsible. Henry didn’t know if he meant the triggermen, or the ones who made the decision, but he didn’t care. Whoever came would know what had happened, as well as if Kelly had been targeted. Those were the answers he needed.

  Jackson promised safety to Henry many times, though the promises seemed both hollow and irrelevant. From what he knew, Henry reasoned that if Jackson were behind the voice, he would be able to track him, contact him, and affect his thoughts whenever he wanted. Henry had already made the either wise or foolish decision to trust Jackson, and that stone was cast.

  Henry placed the phone on the couch and walked to kitchen of his hotel room. After swallowing the last of the soda he was drinking, he had enough alcohol to last the next ten years of his life; he turned the faucet and splashed water in his face several times. Looking up into the mirror behind the sink, he stared at his eyes. They were clear and alert. He felt ready for whatever may come, ready for any eventuality.

  He had no idea what awaited him. He couldn’t imagine what truly motivated Jackson, or the others who may or may not have agreed to meet. He had none of the information that would comfort him, and yet he was comfortable. Despite the looming specter of the meeting, and the finality of it, Henry was calm, and simply wanted to return to watching the football game he had shut off when he answered the phone.

  He didn’t understand his calm. He rationalized that it must be that the current situation, as wrought with uncertainty as it was, was nothing compared to the torture he endured under the pressure of the voice in his head. Then, he not only feared for his livelihood, he actually contemplated the extinguishing of another life. Now, he merely prepared to place his own life in harm’s way in order to obtain the knowledge he needed to continue his life.

  He sat down again, and punched the remote to return him to his viewing. The game had ended, but thankfully another had already begun. Henry listened to the announcers discuss the background of the game in question, and about how the visiting team was looking for some pay-back for a game played on their city. "Payback, huh?"

  The thought had occurred to him long ago, but he ignored it then, and intended to do the same now. However, for some reason—maybe the violence that played before him or the repeated urgings of the announcers that the team wanted to get their revenge—the thought of taking out his frustrations on one of the testers wouldn’t leave his mind. He had no intention of murdering or even harming them. It simply wasn’t something Henry believed in doing.

  In fact, the experience in the park scared him so thoroughly because it was so unlike him to seek revenge or violent resolution. At that moment, he felt peaceful, calm, and eager for the meeting, and yet thoughts of extracting his pound of flesh for what was done to him lingered. It hovered over him like a cirrus
cloud, shading his mood, but not blocking the light of his current disposition.

  He shook his head and focused again on the game. "Don’t be silly, Henry. Just find out what you need, and then get your life back." He knew that if it was a trap, he would be caught, that was the risk he accepted. However, if Jackson were telling the truth, then he would have the truth at last, and would be free to go about his life.

  He settled into the couch, and watched the movement of the players around the field. First downs were achieved, punts were kicked away, and touchdowns were scored. Each event made Henry smile. Every tick of the game clock marked one more second that his life was normal. He knew that it wouldn’t be normal for long. Soon, his life would be swept away again in whatever intrigue that entangled him as a target. He expected anything to happen and yet nothing specifically. He felt certain that his decision had been right, though he couldn’t say why. He was clueless, and without defense, and yet he verged on being giddy about the upcoming meeting. The game continued, and his excitement grew.

  CHAPTER 48

  The time had been set. The place had been chosen. In some ways, Susan had trained for years for the coming event. Hours on end of pressure from other minds. Tasks that threatened to drive her insane. Tear her from her understanding of reality. All so she could take down those who threatened the company.

  The peace it had brought to people.

  The control it gave her and so many others of a curse.

  A curse they made into a gift.

  Someone who knew the good was against them. She would make them comply.

  Carolyn was resting in her room. She seemed disturbed by the news that the meeting was at hand. Her reaction made Susan wonder for a moment if Carolyn might still be under the influence of one of the others.

  Susan dismissed that notion quickly. She was confident that the two of them would have been captured if their location was known. Susan took the opportunity and moment of privacy to steady her mind. Prepare her defenses. Regardless of his department, Jackson Gray was high up in the company. Which meant he had been prepared to ward off attacks, and potential assassins.

  She was ready. She knew that if he was distracted, she could gain the advantage.

  Susan had no illusions that Jackson would surrender when faced with the truth. Rather, she hoped that she could subdue him. Bring him in for interrogation. Learn why he was experimenting on the subjects. Why he released them when they should have been acquired. What his plan was.

  Due to the elegance of the corruption of Carolyn, Susan reasoned that the experiments had been going on with her for quite some time. They’d want, or need, her for some additional purpose. At the very least, they’d need to eliminate her so that the sniffers couldn’t pick up the trail of anyone who had been in her head.

  Susan hoped that they would need Carolyn alive.

  She knew it was a gamble.

  There were no guarantees that they needed Carolyn, or if they did that they needed her alive. However, she worked under the assumption that the acceptance of a meeting indicated that there was something they needed; else they would have simply told her to go to hell.

  Susan had considered calling her superiors. Threatening Jackson that she’d bring all of compliance down in him. But, she didn’t know how high the conspiracy went. Who he had in his pocket. She needed to bring him in with the incriminating evidence to prove her case before they could clean it up.

  Satisfied that she was ready, she stepped out into the warm sun, and paused for a moment to enjoy the day. Looking up at the clear, blue sky, Susan realized how long it had been since she was taken the time to enjoy her life. Her obsession with her job, her duty, had turned her life into a quest. Nothing else had mattered for five years. Now, in the late summer, she could finally see a reason. And what she had been missing.

  She took a deep breath of the fresh, warm air, and resumed her walk to the car. With each step, she regained a portion of her vision. By the time she reached the car, she had purged the concern over the pleasant day, and her mind again thought of only the upcoming meeting.

  Returning to the house, Susan took no notice of the sun, or the few clouds that had appeared. In place of the sights around her, she saw only what would happen when she faced those who had shown their callous disregard for the company and those they were charged to protect or nurture.

  She would play the part as long as needed, allowing them to feel that she was foolish for believing in such a foolish plan. Susan would prepare for the meeting. Presenting Carolyn as a distraction. Someone not to be there. She would continue to play along until she saw the opening she needed.

  CHAPTER 49

  The plan was progressing with predictable efficiency and precision. Everything Jackson Gray had ever planned worked out just as well. He’d spend his early years in the company training to set up the kind of ambush that would take place soon. He’d done his time in compliance. As a sniffer. He’d taken over minds and made them do his bidding.

  He moved to recruitment because he knew the future was in who they brought in. He was dedicated to the company. To its mission. To save and nurture those with a gift that could be a curse if untrained. He wanted to make the company as strong as he could. So he took over the acquisition of talent.

  That’s when he learned the truth.

  Now, he was back to his old games. Playing off of his adversary’s confidence. Maintaining information that he shared with no one. It was the surest was to come out on top of troublesome confrontations. He’d be a much more formidable opponent than Susan Harrison was expecting. She might meet an ugly fate, but his ability to rationalize the loss of life accounted for much of his unusually high success rate.

  Following his time tested routine, Jackson had spent hours preparing his mind. He knew Susan would assault him with whatever tricks she had. She’d also bring distractions, probably Carolyn. He was ready. There was nothing the untrained subject could do. She would take none of his attention until Susan was neutralized.

  He prepared his defenses and cleansed his mind of fear. The final moments leading to an action always produced a profound peace within Jackson. He had proven to himself that he would always be more prepared that the others, and that panic or anxiety gave him no advantage in putting together the final touches, or adapting to a last minute change.

  Jackson positioned himself in the center of his room to complete his preparation for the next day. He pulled a cushion from atop the dresser in his room, and sat on the front of it with his legs crossed over his thighs. He placed his right hand under his left, and began rocking slowly. Each arc was less pronounced than the last, until he was settled, balanced, and calm.

  Jackson had learned to calm himself in this manner from one of the founders. The great graybeards that established the company a hundred years before. It was a technique that allowed him to firm the central pillars of his mind. Give him a place to retreat to under extreme duress. A final defense that none had ever been able to test.

  Balanced, he pressed his tongue against his upper pallet, and began counting his breaths. He had at one time believed that he no longer needed to count the breaths, but his concentration hadn’t reached that level. Inhale. Exhale. One. At least he no longer needed the constant feedback of counting each independently. Inhale. Exhale. Two. He continued to count. Up to ten, and then he began counting down.

  Concern about Susan’s plan flashed across his mind. He focused on the invasive thoughts and attacked it. He knew that she wanted him. Wanted him alive. He knew she wanted the subjects so they could be evaluated.

  None of these mattered. He was prepared for each of the challenges, and she couldn’t know what he was able to do. What Simon was ready to do. Satisfied, he pushed the thought away and continued to count. Down to one, and then he counted again.

  As he continued to focus on his breathing, the doubts about his plan rose to meet him. With each, he identified the doubt, analyzed it, and allowed it to slip away under the oppressive
counting of his breaths. He continued counting up to ten and back to one. Up and down. Ten to one. Soon, he was at peace, his mind was clear, and he was ready for the conflict to come.

  He rose from the ground, refreshed and focused. He replaced the cushion, and walked next door to check on Simon. Through the door, he could hear the footsteps. He could imagine Simon pacing through the room like a caged jungle cat sensing feeding time. Simon was primed, and Jackson knew he would be successful.

  Seeing Simon grow more agitated every day confirmed to him that he was pursuing the correct course of action. Now, he understood the power of his plan. Understood that it could be used just as he intended. And that the technique could never be allowed to be used by another. He would need to take care of Danton, but that was another days’ problem.

  He pictured Simon again. Happy that he was ready to do what was needed. Jackson didn’t however feel sympathy for the man. He had addressed that emotion during his meditation.

  Simon was a good man, but not greater than the collection of people that the company would enslave. He needed Simon in order to ensure that the once great organization would return to its roots. Jackson couldn’t allow failure. Simon was just a resource at Jackson’s disposal. True, as a person, he was a valuable resource, but the cost in this case was justified by the horrible cost of losing.

  Jackson walked away from the door, not wanting to disturb the thoughts that were building in Simon’s head. He crossed the living room to the sofa, and eased himself down onto the padded seat. Jackson exhaled audibly, and allowed his back to sink into the cushion. He closed his eyes, and pictured the meeting. He went through several variations, confident that each would result in victory. When he could imagine no more variables and variations, he let his mind wander and he slept.

  CHAPTER 50