Chapter 4
Peacock showered and made herself alluring. She under applied her makeup and layered lace panties and a sheer nightgown over her body to arouse Pendleton when he saw her. Of course, her natural prowess and her emotions enhanced by technology made her irresistible to men.
The moment her team told her Pendleton had cleared Hercules’ security, her body sensitized. My God, she grew close to orgasm, and he hadn’t opened the door.
At first, Peacock fought her emotions. She hoped to talk to her husband and reconnect. Then she realized that the control team was playing naughty inside her head. Logically, she ought to be nervous about having sex with her husband, not having seen him in months. She didn’t clearly remember him. However, her tormentors manipulated her emotional impulses, and regardless of what he looked like, she wanted to tear his clothes off the moment he walked through the door.
“He’s here,” Polaris said. “Work your magic.”
Pendleton entered with flowers in his hand—a gorgeous looking man. She dropped her gown, tossed the flowers he’d handed to her onto the nightstand, and melted into him. Her mind controlled her body and her body flooded her mind with lustful thoughts. He returned her advances with enthusiasm. For the next hour, his body spoke to hers and she remembered its language.
“I’ve missed you,” Pendleton said as he wrapped his arm under her breasts and curved his body against her backside. “I’ve missed your smile and your voice.”
Peacock couldn’t answer. Her body contracted in intense waves. Her orgasm kept increasing. She fought to bring body under control as the pleasure turned painful. Then as quickly as she’d become aroused, the sensations stopped. The sudden decrease in her heart rate caused her to blackout for an instant. She sucked in a deep breath as she regained consciousness.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” she answered.
As much as she could remember of her husband, told her he was trustworthy. She put her finger to her lips, swung herself out of bed, and grabbed a pen and paper off the table.
They control me.
She pointed to her head.
I’m trapped inside.
Pendleton’s eyes saddened and his jaw quivered. He nodded with understanding.
She didn’t want her feelings for him to die, but they were fading as the seconds passed.
Sorry, she wrote, as tears fell from her husband’s eyes. The vision of him changed from that of her loving husband to an ordinary man. She read the notes she’d written and thought—Hercules will not win.
“How is our child?” she said, as the last drop of emotion squeezed out of her.
#
Pendleton studied the shell of the woman to whom he’d just made love. She was Laverna Smythe-Pendleton for a brief moment. He had hope. If his people could figure out the science and rid her of that retched device without turning her into an idiot, she would be his Lovey again.
He forced himself into task-mode, glanced at the flowers, and said, “Little George misses his mum. But Granny Anne is aces at her job.”
“Do you have a picture?”
Pendleton pulled out a stack of photos showing their healthy, smiling son with Peacock’s red hair and Pendleton’s blue, deep-set eyes. “He’ll be a tall, strapping lad. A great mix of the two of us.”
“I remember giving birth to him.”
The confusion on her face cut deep into his soul. Was her mind destroyed? No. She thought logically, but her emotions were either hyperactive or repressed at her controllers’ will.
“Do you remember me?”
She cocked her head toward him and smiled. “Bits and pieces.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
“I recognized you when I saw you, but until now, I couldn’t have picked your picture out of a group. I saved your life once in a battle by the ocean.” She stood and looked in the mirror as though she’d forgotten the question. “Do you like my new body? I’ve worked hard at tightening my stomach and using cream on my stretch marks.”
Pendleton bit his lip. He’d have to ask the questions and see what recollection she had. “Do you remember meeting me in Athens?”
She didn’t look at him, only herself in the mirror. “You gave me a blue garnet engagement ring.” She turned toward him and showed him her hand. “I wear it still, along with the band.”
He almost asked her if she’d been faithful, but thought better of it.
“Tell me about me. Who am I?” she asked.
The question seemed absurd coming from anyone else.
“Eighteen people were incinerated on a Virginia highway.”
Her eyes were as blank as one possessed. “Yes. I’ve been told everyone died but me. My whole family disappeared in a flash. What else?”
“I’ve seen you kill. I’d say you could best five of my best agents without breaking a sweat.”
“I already have, Darling. I remember my kills.” Her face showed a devilish grin. “I can recall the faces of the dead.”
“You called me, Darling,” Pendleton’s throat choked up. “The night you saved my life, you told me you loved me as much as you could ever really love anyone. You have a bogus estate worth seven billion dollars. You’re a damn genius with an I.Q. over 150. Should I go on?”
Peacock flashed a faint recognition, put her hand to her head, and then reached for the pad and paper.
As you talk to me, I recall things in pictures—where I was when I learned of my IQ. Things like that. My controllers modify my responses, so I react only intellectually.
Pendleton grabbed the papers she’d written earlier and held them up. She studied them and shook her head. He wrote,
You wrote these no more than ten minutes ago.
I don’t remember.
He placed her hand in his and mouthed. “Do you believe the notes?”
She nodded.
He let go her hand and wrote. Until my dying breath, I’m going to find a way to free you.
“Please do.”
Chills coursed through him. She’d reached out for help.
“I’ve been faithful to you, Arthur,” she said. “But I can’t promise anything in the future.”
“Ursa has his own plans.”
“Kolb . . .”
“Who?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m available to have as many children as I’m allowed with you, but only when instructed to stop the medication.”
The warmth faded again from her face, but he’d received the affirmation he needed. Trapped inside lived the woman he loved and he must save her.
#
Several hours passed, but Peacock only remembered what was happening in the present. She talked. She answered and asked questions. Each time she struggled to recall pleasant things, uncomfortable pains flooded her head.
Finally, she stopped struggling. Her programming told her to satisfy this man. The moment he showed interest, her body shot into action, no reason to fight allowed pleasure. She’d deal with the confusion afterward.
#
Arthur Pendleton hurried out to his limousine, slid into the back seat, and dialed Levi. “Did the technology work?”
“The technology worked surprisingly well. The question is how are you? With the physical and emotional workout you endured, I wonder how you can still move about.”
“When can we get together to plot out a solution?” Pendleton asked, ignoring the personal comment.
“Give my people a week. She revealed a great deal without knowing she was. Let’s analyze before we celebrate.”
#
Beatrice Kolb hooked on her tiger-stripe bra and headed into Ursa Major’s bathroom. Sleeping with the boss gained her privileges and access others in Hercules didn’t have. Creating Peacock, the ultimate warrior, with government funding topped her list of successes and wiped out the list of failures from past attempts. What were a few unfortunate human guinea pigs? Peacock was her crowning success.
She ap
plied the slightest touch of fuchsia lipstick to accent the apple-green dress she planned to wear. Major, as Herculeans called him, was Ursa Minor’s boss and already at work. Peacock started her new assignment three months earlier, protecting the President of the United States, and Major would soon receive the first update on her performance.
Kolb already knew her performance would be flawless, and yet, Kolb regretted that Peacock had lost her commitment to the dream of being an ultimate warrior. Pendleton, and Ursa’s poor judgment, caused the problem. If Peacock had willingly worked as a team member, she’d have saved herself a lot of pain.
Peacock despises me, Kolb thought. She’d hoped Peacock would be a friend, a collaborator, even a partner in advancing the science of mind-control. However, both of them were too bullheaded to get along. Too bad for dear Peacock. Once Peacock’s implant adjustments were complete, Beatrice Kolb became Peacock’s mistress.
Dressed and ready for work, Kolb headed out to her red Corvette and drove to The Klingerman Institute, a front for the Hercules’ Mental Development Center. Her team of twelve gathered for her daily briefing, and she shouted instructions from the hallway before ever entering the conference room.
“I want a full report on all scans taken in the last twenty-four hours.” Kolb brushed by Doctor Chang Nyugen, her assistant and entered the room. “Highlight reactions deviating from probe instructions.”
For ten minutes, the researchers reported normal responses from Peacock per program and per plan, until Doctor Nyugen rose up to speak. Nyugen studied brainwave communication in battlefield situations with the military and collaborated on the communications helmet used in Iraq and Afghanistan. Kolb brought him onboard to help install Peacock’s new implant.
“Ursa tests her skillfully regarding her husband. She’s kicked Pendleton off his pedestal, thank God.” Nyugen passed out the technical support data. “I have no doubt she’ll kill him at our command. When the threat to America’s financial security has passed, our most powerful enemy, Arthur Pendleton, will die at her hand, and then she can be renamed and reassigned.”
“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Kolb grumped. “Until the time when his death won’t bankrupt the world’s economy, we must play defense.”
“Hercules’ leadership has to deal with that reality,” Nyugen said. “The science says she’ll kill him.”
“I heard but in your tone.”
“There is one glitch. We can’t change her feelings for her son. I doubt she could destroy the child on command.”
Kolb drummed her fingers on the conference room table. She’d never had a child and never wanted one. In the larger scheme of things, she doubted the child would pose a future threat. In today’s world, dictator’s sons had trouble succeeding their fathers. Some ugly mob would probably kill him if he ever tried. Her greater concern lay in the fact that there was a glitch at all. If one developed, could another crop up, and so on?
“Tell no one outside this room. Chang, you and I will study this dilemma ourselves.”
Chapter 5
The six members of the Jame’e-ye Rowhaniyat-e Mobarez, Combatant Clergy Association of Iran gathered to consider Russia’s intentions. They reclined to eat in an off-white color, drab room. From the ceiling hung a large decorative twelve-armed crystal lamp, one arm for each of the Twelve Imams of their faith.
As all good Shia clergy, they each wore a black turban and a black sleeveless aba open in the front. Save for one, whose turban and aba was white, and he headed the gathering. After the appropriate greetings, their leader, Grandayatollah Dariush Vahid al-Sistani, rose to speak.
“Our world boasts many Great Satans,” he said in a strong, steady voice. “And one is stomping his feet on the soil of Turkmenistan. We sat still when the Russians made war against our brothers in Afghanistan, believing the Russians to be our friends. But, no more do we believe this. Only our oil causes them to occasionally smile our way. So we are right to attack them as they attack our Muslim brothers, the Turkmen.”
A member of long standing rose and al-Sistani yielded the floor. “While our economy suffers under the World Financial Community’s manipulation, our Russian neighbor strengthens his hand. He strikes at Turkmenistan, and we must come to the aid of our friends. Their recent vote to become an Islamic Republic demands our support, Sunni’s or not.”
“I asked myself in Allah’s name. Why would Russian President Latovsky wish to incite a war?” al-Sistani said. “My answer came lightning fast. Arthur Pendleton demanded that the Russians attack us. The Turkmen’s gas deposits in the hands of Russia cuts deeply into our energy supply.”
A cry went up. “What if we, and not the Turkmen, are Latovsky’s target?”
“Better to fight him on the Turkmen’s soil, and not ours,” al-Sistani said. “God is great. Russia comes anyway. Hit Russia hard.”
Heads bowed and many offered up prayers.
“I will call General Jafarzadeh and develop a plan of attack if Russia places one boot on Iranian soil,” al-Sistani said. “But pray we stop his forces while still in Turkmenistan.”
He and his comrades then reclined for dinner. The smell of onion and garlic filled the air, various fruits and vegetables, pomegranates and bananas, lamb cooked in milk displayed at table. The women serving them catered to every request, wiping the crumbs up as they fell. Bringing in course after course, they served their masters with reverence.
al-Sistani pondered his dilemma. Russia was coming. Those in this room would soon be engaged in a war of inconceivable horror. All this would happen because Arthur Pendleton desired to rule the world.
“Leave our enemies in Allah’s hand,” al-Sistani said, “and enjoy the gifts He bestows.”
#
In the week following his time with Laverna, Pendleton watched with growing concern the escalation of the fighting in Turkmenistan. The Russians were a far superior force, working under a less than capable leader. As he pondered this dilemma, Pendleton received a call from Milton Rogers. Rogers, the man responsible for setting the foundation for Pendleton’s government over a decade earlier, remained his closest confidant to date.
“You’re second on my agenda, Milton,” Pendleton said. “Doctor Levi and I have a meeting at noon about Lovey’s condition.”
“The Iranian situation has spooked our core supporters. What should I tell them?”
“Tell them I’ve already solved the problem with Latovsky. His blunder isn’t fatal to our plans, only to him. They should keep their eyes on the goal. Will you do that, Old Chap?”
Rogers grunted an, “Of course I will.” Then he added. “One day you’ll let me in on your reasoning beforehand.”
“I’ll try. Right now I have too much going on to remember.”
Pendleton hung up and sat in the dark. At eleven o’clock in the morning with the shades drawn, only the luminous hands on his desk clock gave any light. He’d warned the Russian President to hold off gathering his forces. But idiots are idiots. The only real harm done was to swat the wasps’ nest before spraying it. The wasp would sting Russia, but the wasps would die.
His spirit darkened in the gloom. Not that he worried about whether he’d reach his goal, but rather that once things were set in motion, he couldn’t control every detail. No one on his staff could predict Pendleton’s moods, even after a decade of working for him. Only Laverna, when she was Laverna, understood him. She knew exactly why and when he needed to be reassured. Now he needed her, but couldn’t reach her. The woman he’d spend a day with wasn’t his Lovey, yet he could see glimpses of her and that was encouraging.
The next two months would determine the fate of the world. He had to focus on business, not emotions. What he was about to do would cost the lives of millions—necessary, but depressing. He reminded himself of the bigger picture. The planet would die if he didn’t act. No human life could exist on the face of a barren, scorched earth. He hadn’t caused those conditions, but he and his team of experts could stop them from bec
oming worse and eventually turn them around.
The human race would never fulfill its potential, only its destruction if he didn’t act. Eliminating money was essential. Human beings collectively working for purposeful goals could accomplish amazing feats. Putting an end to competition would save the human race. First, he had to put an end to greed, wars, and religious fanaticism. No form of government thus far proved ideal. Greed, power struggles, and mass dissatisfaction destroyed them all. Only an enlightened despot with worldwide power could save the planet.
His meeting in Zurich was a recheck of his team’s preparation. Immediate food distribution and his appeal to the world to join him peacefully were the two major keys to a transition to a one-world government. He needed to deal with these issues, but not until Doctor Levi eased his mind about his wife’s condition.
At precisely noon, his secretary announced the arrival of Doctor Rueben Levi. Pendleton switched on the lights and waved Levi in.
“Did you hear the news about another Iranian missile attack?” Levi asked as he shook Pendleton’s hand. “Non-nuclear but they stirred up trouble. Russian forces have crossed the border into Iran.”
“Yes, I heard. The United Nations is meeting as we speak. They will support Russia. But right now, I want to concentrate on my wife.”
“May I see the notes? Our communications device can’t read.” He smiled, but Pendleton ignored the attempt at humor. He handed Levi the slips of paper on which both had written their notes.
“Well, clearly the key piece of information was provided when she named Kolb,” Levi said. “Kolb was the key player in the brainwave military helmet development used in Iraq and Afghanistan. She’s truly a Frankenstein. What did the implant site look like?”
“Hardly noticeable—a crosshatched scar behind her right earlobe—maybe an inch long and a quarter-inch wide. The implant’s hidden by her hair.”
“Here is the good news.” Levi sat down at Pendleton’s coffee table. “Your wife communicated to you, asking for help. Kolb’s good, but the science isn’t one hundred percent. Your wife knows she’s being manipulated, but she can’t hold on to her thoughts long enough to free herself. That she knows at all is most encouraging.”
Madness Page 3