Danton pounded his chest after belching the residue from the full pound bacon cheeseburger he had devoured in less than fifteen minutes. His ample pants strained under the pressure of his bloated belly, and the cabin of his car now reeked of onions and cheese. He belched again, and reached for his second one-liter soda of the day.
He chugged a large portion of the soda before replacing the cap and attacking the mammoth chocolate shake he had purchased as dessert. He figured it would keep him full for some time, but he couldn’t help thinking about the meatball sandwich he had planned for dinner.
Dinner would have to wait, though, as he needed to spend as much time within listening range of Henry Adamson as possible. The morning had yielded the exciting result of information concerning the impending meeting with that bastard Jackson. Danton sucked down more of the thick beverage and thought about Jackson’s reaction when he discovered that his little plan had failed.
Danton assumed that Jackson planned on eliminating the evidence of his betrayal against the company, while keeping things quiet enough that he could do it again when he was ready. Danton had no intention of allowing that to happen.
The welfare of the subjects mattered little to Danton. They were merely tools in the fight against disorder. If they were lost in order to bring out the greater good, so be it. However, he couldn’t allow the program to be lost. His plan was simple, follow Henry to the site. Capture all the subjects for evaluation.
Kill Gray.
Securing new subjects would be easy once he’d gone through the minds of the others to see what worked and how it was working. He knew enough about how to do the implantation, but he needed to know how the memories were made. How to make them more permanent.
He hoped that some of the subjects would survive the evaluation. He’d be able to use them for his army. They had already proven to be dangerous when thoughts crept in.
He slurped the remainder of the shake and tossed the containers and wrappings out the window of his car. As he drove around the hotel where Henry Adamson reclined, absorbing the inane ramblings of sportscasters and commentators, Danton tried to imagine the different scenarios that could take place. It was an exercise he frequently engaged in, though it seldom yielded positive results.
Danton had always been bright and imaginative. Able to create solutions to problems that other failed to see. However, despite his background and previous work, he found it very difficult to imagine the multiple ways that people might behave. He could easily determine the most likely course of action, but he couldn’t visualize multiple scenarios. As a result, he had developed an aggressive manner to deal with such situations.
Like an expert chess player, Danton strove to create scenarios that forced his opponent to choose between two equally distasteful options. His goal wasn’t to forecast all of the possible scenarios, but to create a situation in which his adversary’s decision became a non-factor. He was certain he had achieved that this time as well.
Whether the meeting resulted in complete loss of life, no fatalities, or something in the middle was irrelevant, his plan required only that Jackson Gray die and the subjects end up in his custody. Whether or not the subjects Jackson dies was meaningless.
He chuckled at the thought of all the petty strategies that the different parties were planning. Henry with his need for closure and knowledge. Jackson with his plan to eliminate the threat of losing his precious control over the situation. Losing it to Danton. The undoubtedly fear driven motives of the other subjects. Each of these people believed they controlled the situation, knowing nothing about him, or his guaranteed victory.
Gleeful from his analysis, Danton felt the rumblings of a craving. He wanted to stay near Henry, and had believed that having the shake would stem his desire, but faced with a lack of anxiety and an assured victory, his gluttonous desires began to gain a foothold. He circled the building twice more, trying to subdue his urge. The battle was a futile one however, and he was soon on his way.
Six blocks from Henry’s hotel, Danton parked his car and entered the small, bright building. His desire had grown beyond his control, and his order demonstrated the degree of craving. He placed his money on the table, lifted the large bowl, and sat down at a small marble table to enjoy the ten scoops of handmade ice cream that he sometimes dreamed about. He shoveled the first few flavors down his large throat, before slowing down to enjoy the treat.
CHAPTER 51
The time was approaching. Carolyn stared at the door Susan had knocked on in the early morning to inform her that the meeting would take place the next day. She had no response. She sat, catatonic, on her bed. Susan detailed when the meeting would take place and what would occur, but Carolyn comprehended nothing. She heard the words, and understood what was being said, but the information left her mind as soon as it entered.
Even as the sun came up, the room seemed to darken with each passing moment. Each time Susan tried to grab her attention and move her focus to the next day, Carolyn recessed more into the hole that threatened to swallow her mind. Every detail dimmed her life and she was happy to see Susan leave.
She had little knowledge of the next day’s events when Susan left, but none of that changed her feelings about the appointment. Over the past two days, Carolyn had imagined how she might react when the meeting was actually set. She wasn’t sure if she would scream, faint, run, hide, or simply cry. None of these were her response.
Even after Susan left, Carolyn could do nothing. Her only desire was to sleep. To sleep forever. She wanted only to recline on the bed, in the dark that defied the sun, and lose consciousness until the whole affair was over. Within minutes of Susan’s departure, Carolyn was sprawled upon the bed, dreading the passage of time.
Hours later, she lay in the same place, having not moved an inch. In her motionless state, she imagined that time stopped and that if she remained fixed she would be able prevent the next day from coming. Her muscles ached, but she feared that movement would make the next day arrive sooner. The threat of the meeting forced every desire to live out of her.
She lay without moving, holding time still. Her eyes focused on the same spot on the ceiling, freezing time in its place. Time passed outside her room, but she held it away with her stiff frame and constant stare. And then there was a shadow. A small shadow of a flying bird. It passed across the spot on the ceiling and caught her eye. Before she could stop it, her eyes tracked the shadow, and her head moved.
Suddenly, she could see the sun, now low in the sky. The spell was broken and the day was almost over. She could no longer stop the ominous approaching meeting, and she knew now that she had wasted the day. Wasted what could be her last day.
She jumped from the bed, and fell to the floor. Her tired, sore legs were unable at first to support her weight, but she needed to go. She stared at the window, longing to be outside. Longing to enjoy the last moments of her life. Slowly, she could feel the painful tingling in her legs that told her the blood coursed again. She worked her way back atop her wobbly legs and staggered to the window.
She pulled at the frame, expecting it to be locked. The window didn’t move, and she pressed her face to the glass. It felt warm to her cheek. She stared out the glass now so close to her eye, and though the view was distorted, she enjoyed the beauty of the field at dusk. She stared at the orange sky, and green fields, imagining her life before.
Before she was contacted by whoever was responsible.
Contact with those forces had ruined her life. They had the power to make her question every thought. And now, she was only hours away from facing them. Thoughts of the meeting clawed at her mind, but she fought against them by staring at the fields outside the window. The grass was turning green, and the trees were leafing out despite the seasonal lack of rain. She stared at the trees, but nothing could keep her fears of the next day at bay.
Even through the trees, she could see the men coming for her. She could hear voices in her head, and though she feared them, she ima
gined that they could make her want to go to them. She wondered how she could be sure whom she could trust. Could she trust whom she felt like trusting, or would they be planting that in her mind? Could she risk going against her intuition and trust the others? There were no answers to her doubts and fears.
She knew that she wouldn’t be able to rely on her perceptions or feelings. The next day, she would meet with people who held a power she couldn’t understand or fight. Her only protection would be a woman she hardly knew who could be one of them. Or worse. Sure, she trusted Susan, but what did that mean anymore?
She knew only that Susan intended to use her as bait. To hope that the person they met wanted to kill or capture her. Wanted it enough to lose concentration. She was going to be attacked by someone. That was certain.
Carolyn returned to the bed, knowing that Susan wouldn’t let her run. She reclined into the mattress, searching for a few hours of comfort. She held no illusions that sleep would come, but she reasoned that she would need her rest for the next day’s trials. She stared up at the ceiling, finding the spot that comforted her recently. The spot was now cold and dead. She hoped it didn’t portend her fate the next day.
CHAPTER 52
The street was empty, but the painting on the walls, the littered sidewalks, and the remains of ammunition on the ground beneath his feet told Henry he was wise to purchase the comprehensive insurance for the rental. He stepped away from the car and locked the doors with the fob. As he entered the building he chuckled at the thought of the locked doors underneath the flimsy cover.
His laughter ceased as he stepped through the brick doorway, into the dark stale air of the building. When he spied the large building from the highway, he dreaded having to spend any time there. The fact that it sat in the middle of an urban war zone was only one of the issues. From a great distance, the dull brown brick building looked like a functioning structure.
He had always thought it looked strong despite its age—a real testament to the builders. However, as the distance between observer and edifice decreased, the toll time had taken on the building was apparent. The windows were merely holes in the brick, most of them original. The lower levels of the structure bore the stains of paint and blood that had been sprayed on its surface for a decade.
As Henry entered, he was greeted by a smell that seemed to match well to the exterior decay. He climbed the stairs, stepping slowly to avoid the misplaced excrement of a recent overnight inhabitant. The trade-off between walking carefully and lingering in the long sloping toilette was difficult, but Henry felt it better to endure the filth now than to be stuck with it after he left. He placed his mouth and nose beneath the collar of his shirt, and headed up the stairs.
After bypassing the remains, and pushing cobwebs from his path, he arrived at the landing for the fourth floor. He stood between flights, staring at what seemed like the largest door he had ever seen. For an instant, he considered turning back, but he needed this meeting. He needed to know. He took a deep breath and pushed the little anxiety aside with surprising ease, and pushed the door out of his way with equal effort.
The dark hallways were full of torn garments and broken bottles. He removed his shirt from his mouth. The larger space and broken windows allowed for greater circulation, and Henry could walk normally, able to breathe the air without heaving. He strolled through the hall, patiently moving closer to the lobby where the meeting would take place. Henry had expected to be scared at this moment, so close to either salvation or death. He assumed he would have to force himself forward.
However, he glided along the floor, standing tall and sure that he was making the correct decision. He thought about the meeting again, making sure he hadn’t neglected to consider some facet of the situation—something that would bring the fear he expected. He considered Kelly’s safety and happiness first. He was certain that obtaining proof was the only was he could regain her trust. He was also sure that if they intended to go after her, they would have used her as bait long ago.
He thought about what he would do, and realized that he had never devised a plan for getting the evidence he needed. For a moment, he felt the tug of fear urging him to leave this dilapidated building and return to the safety of the hotel to plan, but it eased with the understanding that any plan he had derived would collapse in the face of variables he couldn’t account for. He knew he was prepared, and he knew his goal. That would have to suffice. A few other items crossed his awareness, but he knew that he had to go forward.
He had to win back Kelly’s trust, and this would be the only way.
A few more steps and he stood at the double doors that guarded the lobby. He pressed his ear to the hollow wood, and detected two voices. They were engaged in some debate, and though the pace of the conversation was slow, he could feel the tension in the tones. He continued to listen, hoping to gain an advantage by gathering as much information as possible before making an appearance.
The man and the woman continued to speak. Henry felt that the terse, slow discussion reminded him of a hostage negotiation he had seen in a movie. He could pick out some of the words, enough to know that they were dealing something. He was confident that the woman was after the same evidence he was. He couldn’t allow that information to change hands if he wasn’t aware of who had it and what they planned to do with it.
He continued listening, until he heard a word that signaled his time had come. "Agreed," the two people had said, and he needed to assert his presence to ensure that the proof he needed to live his life would be his. He took a deep breath and pushed the doors aside. To his right, a man stared at him with a knowing grin. He knew from the smug expression that it was Jackson.
Behind Jackson, another man, frightened and sweaty, came around the corner. On his left, one woman held a pistol to the back of another and moved away from Henry while keeping her eyes on him.
Henry acknowledged all in the room with a short nod, and then cast his glance on the box in the middle of the large space. He could see papers, disks, and CDs along with two cylindrical devices whose purpose he assumed. His heart skipped a beat, and his fingers rubbed together as if controlled by a force outside his brain.
Henry looked up and watched as the two speakers, Jackson and the woman with the gun at her back, scanned him from head to toe while the others stared ahead in either fear or rage. He nodded to them all again, and then stepped slowly toward his prize. The eyes remained focused on him, and he slowed his motion. He walked in an odd pattern, not directly toward the box, but always closer. He wasn’t sure how he would obtain the bounty, but he wanted to be close in case speed was needed.
CHAPTER 53
"Just stay here. Everything will be fine. I promise." Jackson placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder. He patted him twice and turned away. The somber, caring look on his face changed to a wry smile as he walked toward the center of the lobby and prepared to meet the woman who would try to manipulate him.
He was alone in the open space, and he decided to set the stage for the effect he needed. He had scouted the location when Susan sent the address. An effective illusion fooled most into thinking it was a dangerous place. In fact, it was merely abandoned. Had been for years. The Company owned it, and stopped using it four years ago.
He placed the box containing papers and devices in the center of the room. The lies and images Henry and Simon had seen would leave them focused there. He wasn’t sure yet what his plan would be for Carolyn, but he knew her mind. He knew he could direct her.
He placed the box, and the baggage, on the floor and stepped back. His plan was in place and now he waited. Unlike many of his peers, he loved the wait. It was a time for him to trace his recent steps and ensure that he was ready. His mind wondered back to the trip to the building. Simon had been eager to leave, as Jackson assumed he would be. The fumbling, untrained man rushed the car when Jackson indicated, and tried to conceal the handgun that he crudely placed under a jacket that was entirely inappropriate considering th
e weather.
During the drive, Simon was anxious and jittery, and Jackson knew that the training had been a complete success. He could definitely count on Simon carrying out his part of the plan. The unknowing agent was a tool Jackson loved to employ, and Simon was one of his greatest constructions. Confident that Simon would do as needed, he analyzed the rest of his plan.
He was unsure of Henry Adamson. He left him all incentive he could. Had Peter pass along the paranoid conspiracy in person, before eliminating that loose end. Taken out the same way the other loose ends were dispatched. Jackson regretted that. Peter deserved better. But, there were times that call for action.
In the end, he’d done what he could with Henry. He didn’t have the time with him as with Simon. He knew Henry might clear his head and avoid the meeting. If Henry didn’t arrive in time, the plan was sound enough to accomplish its goal, however, Jackson liked security, and hoped that all his pieces would arrive and the embarrassment would be complete. He didn’t want to have to hunt Henry down after this confrontation.
The woman he was about to meet, Susan, had to understand the nature of what was done. She’d been with Carolyn too long. She’d also probably kept it all to herself, worried that there might be others involved.
As Jackson completed his mental checklist, he heard footsteps at the other end of the lobby. He stood tall and relaxed, reflecting the confidence that permeated his mind and body. Two women came toward him, one holding a pistol. He could always count on compliance to try to stack the deck in their favor.
Jackson examined the subject first. Carolyn Hansford’s eyes met his only for an instant, and then darted around the shadow filled room. Perspiration poured from her forehead, and her hands clinched and released in a slow pattern. Jackson could also see evidence of labored, if not quickened, breathing. She was scared. Not panicked, but full of fear. He tried to catch her eyes again, but they were elusive.
Confabulation (The Department) Page 16