by Mike Ryan
“Why you hung up on getting me? I’m sure you could get a thousand other guys to do the same work.”
“You’re a highly trained soldier, part of Team Delta. In addition, you’ve sustained an injury that we can easily portray into your implied death. You also have nobody back home that would miss you or poke around into your disappearance,” Sanders continued.
“My implied death?”
“As I said, once you begin working for us, you do not exist. You’re officially dead. That means after you leave this room Thomas Nelson ceases to exist. He died on the operating table.”
“How much time do I have to think about it?” Nelson asked.
“Oh, about ten minutes,” Sanders replied, looking down at his watch.
Nelson looked up at the man standing next to his bed, wondering how he could expect him to make a life altering decision so quickly. He sat in silence, his face showing no expression, staring at Sanders. A numb feeling overtook his body. He slowly shifted his gaze over to Lawson, his face still void of life, taking it all in. He sat there digesting the information he’d just been given. Was it the life he wanted? To be a soul-less, ruthless killer that had no past and didn’t even exist? He thought about how changing his name would affect him, but considering he couldn’t remember anything anyway, it really was of no consequence what anyone called him. After a few minutes of thought he shook his head in acknowledgment, reluctantly accepting the offer, knowing he really didn’t have many other options. At least with them he’d be a part of something. A group he could rely on and help him fill in any missing pieces, or questions he’d have. If he declined and went on his own, he had no family, and no one to turn to. That was an even scarier proposition for someone who couldn’t remember anything.
“Well, I can’t even express how happy I am right now,” Sanders stated. “Welcome to the team.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry about changing the name but it has to be done.”
“It’s OK. I can’t remember anything so it’s not doing me much good anyway,” Nelson stated.
“I can understand.”
“So what’s my new name?”
“Matthew Cain.”
Chapter 2
Two weeks later—Sanders and his entourage of officials boarded the jet, bound for New York. Cain slipped into a seat against the window, staring at the landscape below as the ground became a blip on the radar.
“So how’d you come up with Matthew Cain?” Cain asked.
“We give new agents new identities once they start working with us. So we name them after people in the biggest organization ever created,” Sanders replied.
“Who’s that?”
“The Bible.”
“So who do you name them after?”
“Killers. Seemed more fitting.”
“So who am I named after?”
“Cain. He murdered his brother Abel and was the world’s first murderer,” Sanders informed him.
“That’s comforting. So where am I gonna live when we get there?” Cain wondered.
“Everything’s been taken care of,” Sanders replied. “You’ve got a nice apartment in the heart of New York City.”
“Once we get back you’ll be given a package of everything you’ll need,” Lawson interjected. “Bank account, credit cards, car, passports, drivers license, everything.”
“You’ll notice that $250,000 has been deposited into your bank account to start with. Once we see that you’re going to stay with us for a while you will get $500,000 deposited into your account every six months, the first of January and July.”
“Nice.”
“Money will be the least of your worries. Make no mistake though, you will earn every penny of it.,” Sanders added.
“What if I don’t like living in New York?”
“You only have to stay there for a brief period. We want to make sure you’re completely comfortable with the operation. After that, you’re free to live wherever you like. More times than not you’ll be off on an assignment anyway. One of the trade-offs of that money is that you will be on call 24/7. You will make yourself able to be contacted at any time of the day no matter where you are. If you are needed on an assignment immediately, you are to drop what you’re doing and respond at a moments notice,” Lawson explained. “It is rare when that happens as we like to plan missions out a few days in advance, but it does happen and you will be available.”
“That’s not a problem. I obviously have nothing or no one to tie me down.”
“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. At one point this agency frowned upon agents having exterior relationships as they felt it would interfere in plans and at some point cause friction. What we found was some agents began to snap. Loneliness set in, there was nobody waiting for them, nothing to keep them going, and the stress of the missions wore them down. Now the policy is that we encourage you to make friendships and relationships outside of this agency. We want you to be happy and content and in return hopefully agents won’t go off the deep end. The conditions are that you cannot tell them what you do. If you want to tell them you work in insurance, or sales, or even for the government, that is up to you. But your work here is top secret.”
“And I’ll even take it a step further,” Sanders chimed in. “You’re paid handsomely for your work here and in return for that we expect to be your number one priority. I don’t really care what you do or say when you’re at home as long as this agency is not involved. We are an ultra top secret department and we must remain that way. Any slips by you about our work here to a friend, girlfriend, wife, reporter, anybody, will result in their immediate death…and probably yours. There are no reprieves and it’s non-conditional. Is that clear?”
“I understand. How long will I be needed to do this?” Cain wondered.
“There’s no set timetable. We ask for ten or fifteen years. Anything after that will be evaluated on a case by case basis,” Lawson said. “If you choose to walk away at that point you’ll have fifteen million dollars in your bank account and free to live the rest of your life however you choose, though you’ll forever be bound by the rules of disclosure about this agency.”
“What about guns?”
“You’ll be given your choice of weapons at the Center. Though you won‘t always travel with them. Due to airport security and customs, sometimes you‘ll need to acquire your weapon once you arrive at your target location. Typically it‘s not a problem as we have operators and safety deposit boxes all over the world. Obtaining a weapon will be the least of your problems.”
“What Center?”
“It’s where our headquarters are.”
“It’d probably be best to get some sleep if you can,” Sanders said. “You’ll need it once we get back.”
Cain took Sanders up on the suggestion and dozed off for a while. They arrived in New York late that night, company cars waiting for them once they touched down. Sanders, Lawson, and Cain were driven away in the lead car with the other officers in the trailing car. Cain looked out the window intently, looking at the scenery.
“Have I ever been here before?” Cain asked. He could see the confusion in the faces of his companions once the words left his lips. “In New York, I mean,.”
“Not to my knowledge,” Sanders responded.
A short time later they arrived at the Center, going into the underground parking garage. As they got out of the car, Cain took note of his surroundings. It was a natural instinct for him, something that he still remembered from his military days. He always had to be aware of what was around him, noting any possible trouble spots, no matter how peaceful or innocent something looked. This was one of those times when something just didn’t feel right. He looked at the faces of Sanders and Lawson, who didn’t seem troubled by anything, but still felt like something was off. They went inside the elevator, where Sanders pushed the button to go up to the lobby. Once the doors opened and they stepped off the elevator, they were surprised to f
ind three armed men waiting for them, guns pointed at each of their faces.
“Anyone moves and you’re all dead,” one of the men yelled.
All three of the intruding men were wearing black masks and two were armed with AK-47’s while the other just had a pistol. They forced Sanders, Lawson, and Cain onto the ground, lying on their stomachs.
“What do you want with us? Money?” Sanders asked.
“We don’t want money. We want him,” one of the men replied, pointing at Cain.
“He’s new to our company. He doesn’t know anything.”
“We’ll see about that.”
One of the men pulled out another black mask, though this one didn’t have any holes for the mouth or eyes. They sat Cain up and put the hood over his face. They stood him up as one of the men took the butt end of his rifle and smashed it into Cain’s face. Cain immediately dropped to the floor as the blunt force temporarily knocked him out. Two of the assailants each grabbed one of Cain’s arms and dragged him back into the elevator. The leader of the group kept Sanders and Lawson on the ground at gun point before joining the other two in the elevator.
About an hour later Cain started coming out of it. He emitted a low moan while moving his head. He opened his eyes but only saw darkness with the hood still over his head. A few seconds later the hood was pulled off his head. He tried to move his arms but they were restrained, tied behind his back as he sat on an old wooden chair. Cain squinted his eyes trying to adjust to the bright lights. He looked around the room but he was alone. There was nothing else even in the room other than the chair he was sitting on. There was a small mirror on the opposite side of the room. After sitting there for five minutes, wondering what his abductors had planned for him, someone finally entered the room. He was a middle aged man, graying hair around his temples, and dressed in an expensive suit. He circled Cain a couple of times before speaking up.
“I’ll start this out by explaining a few things to you,” the man stated. “I’m gonna get the information I want out of you one way or another. I’d prefer to do it the easy way. I’ll ask you a question and you simply answer it honestly. If you’d rather do it the hard way then I’m not opposed to that either. In that instance we’ll simply beat the information out of you using whatever kinds of torture amuses us at the moment. Understand?”
“Sure,” Cain replied.
“First off, let’s start with your name.”
“Peter.”
“Peter what?”
“Peter Pan,” Cain seriously said.
“Peter Pan,” his interrogator repeated with a laugh. “Somehow I don’t think so.”
“OK. My name really is Peter.”
“Peter what?”
“Peter Rabbit.”
The well dressed man wasn’t as amused with this answer as he was the one before it. He motioned toward the mirror for someone to come in. Seconds later two more men entered the room. Both were younger men, in their mid twenties probably, and as well dressed as their superior.
“See if you can make him a little more willing,” the elder man told them.
Cain knew what that meant and his face tensed up as he tried to prepare for what was about to happen. He closed his eyes just as a clenched right fist made contact with his jaw, knocking him and his chair on the ground. The other man pulled him up in time for a left hand to put him back onto the ground, the man’s knuckles hitting Cain across the bridge of his nose. One of the men pulled him back up and immediately took the wind out of Cain by punching him in the stomach several times.
“I’ll ask you one more time. Your name?” the leader asked.
Cain took a deep breath before answering. “It’s Michael.”
“Michael what?”
“Michael Jordan.”
“You’re a funny man,” he said after letting out a laugh. He seemed rather amused by Cain’s sense of humor.
“Not as funny as your face is gonna look after I’m done rearranging it,” Cain threatened.
“Well, we’ll see about that. Take Mr. Cain away for a bit and see how he likes the dark.”
Cain looked at the man before him curiously, wondering how he knew his name and why he was trying to beat it out of him if he already knew it.
“Yes Mr. Cain, I’m already aware of who you are,” he told him.
“Then why the muscle?”
“I told you I was prepared to do things either way you chose. I wanted to see which way you preferred. Apparently, you like to make things hard on yourself. So we’ll do it your way.”
The younger men untied Cain, lifting him up from the chair. As they began walking Cain tripped one of them then punched the other one, catching him off guard. Cain kicked both men as they laid on the ground. Once they were incapacitated he turned his attention to the leader who was just standing against the wall watching the activities. Cain put his hands around his neck but was soon met with resistance as several more men rushed into the room to stop him. They pulled Cain off the man and restrained him.
“What do you want with me?!” Cain yelled.
“In due time Mr. Cain. In due time,” the leader replied.
The men put the hood back over Cain’s head and led him out of the room. They walked him down a long, cold hallway that had bare white walls with a few doors on each side. They bypassed these doors until they reached the end of the hallway, a single door remaining. Once they reached their destination, they opened the door and shoved Cain in, quickly closing the door behind him. Cain’s hands weren’t tied together so he pulled the hood off. The room was pitch black. Cain used his hands to feel around the edge of the room. He walked around the entire room, not feeling anything that would indicate a window or opening of any kind. He felt the door but there didn’t seem to be a handle on it so he assumed it could only be opened from the outside.
The captors could see into the room through a piece of glass along part of the wall. Once they saw Cain sit down on the floor, they left to convene in the meeting room. They went into the room, where the man who ordered it all was already waiting for them.
“What did you think?” the well dressed leader asked his superior.
“Nicely done,” Director Sanders responded, smiling.
“Sir, do you really think this is necessary?” Shelly Lawson asked, concerned about Cain‘s condition.
“Unless you can think of another way in which case I’m all ears. We don’t have time to subject him to six to eight months of intensive training to see what he can do. The best way to see him in action and see how he responds to situations is to throw him into a situation where he thinks his life is at risk.”
“I just hope we don’t lose him after this.”
“We won’t.”
“How long should we keep him in solitary?” the well dressed man asked.
“Leave him there for a week. We’ll see how that changes him,” Sanders replied. “Any objections Shelly?”
“No,” Lawson replied after a long pause.
Sanders ordered Cain to be kept locked up for a week, with no outside contact, except for one meal a day. He wanted to see how he’d act after being in a weakened state from not eating and being in constant darkness. Sanders stopped by to check on him every day to see if his demeanor started changing. Though it was tough on Cain not knowing what time of day it was or what was happening to him, he tried to use the time to his advantage. Though they were trying to starve him and make him weak, he tried to combat it and stay strong by doing pushups and sit ups. He slept a lot and tried to not let his mind wander and think positively. He figured that they wanted him alive for some reason or they would’ve killed him already.
After a week had passed the same two men who worked him over before came in to get him.
“Smells like piss in here,” the one stated.
“I wanted it to smell like you were at home,” Cain remarked, earning him a kick in the stomach.
“C’mon, it’s time for another chat.”
They dra
gged Cain up to his feet, helping him stand. He was a little weak but was able to stand on his own and walk by himself. There was another guard standing outside the room as they walked into the hallway and led him down the hallway into another room. It was the same room they interrogated him at before. This time he wasn’t tied to a chair and left him unrestrained. All three men guarded the room before the well dressed leader walked in.
“Looks like solitary confinement wasn’t too harsh for you.”
“Was a little too bright for my liking,” Cain sarcastically said.
“Your humor serves you well.”
“What do you want?”
“Who do you work for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you in New York?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you with Sanders?”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“C’mon now, you don’t know who you were with or where you are? You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“You should. Cause the only way you’re getting out of here is if you start making me believe what you’re saying.”
“Look, I’ve got a bullet in my head and I have memory issues. Doctors say I have something called sporadic amnesia. Sometimes I can’t remember what happened an hour ago. As far as this Sanders guy, maybe I know him, but I just can’t remember right now.”
“Maybe you just need your memory jogged a little.”
The leader motioned to one of the guards who stepped in front of Cain and belted him with a right hand, knocking Cain to the ground. As they helped Cain back to his chair he noticed a gun on the left side of the one guard inside his jacket.