by Fiona Quinn
The most I got back from him in return was a stone face.
Now I sat silently listening to his wall clock’s soft tick, tick, tick.
Finally, he laced his hands and put them on his stomach. “It says in your contract in plain English that you’re not a field operative. You haven’t been trained the way these operatives have been.”
“And yet I’ve operated next to them since I was eighteen.”
“Not the same thing as a war zone. In that part of the world females are at greater risk. I could see possibly sending you in to meet with this woman at a base. But you’re a bigger prize than the men if you’re caught. Imagine the damage you could do to America if they paraded you around and cut off your head on a video. Or like those Yazidi women you were telling me about Can you imagine the effect of ISIS locking you in a metal cage and lighting you on fire?”
I pursed my lips.
“I only say that because I know it’s an argument you might hear. You won’t listen to me if I said you shouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way.”
“While we let the men?”
“Can’t say I’m the misogynist type. I was thinking more about their training versus yours. All of my operatives are SERE trained.”
“I’m SERE trained. On the job training. For me the survival, evasion, resistance, escape wasn’t a school acronym. I never had the luxury of knowing I could tap out or that I had a hot meal waiting for me at the end of the week, a soft bed, and a slap on the back. For me it was do or die.”
Ha! Sometimes things just smacked me in the face. There was a concept that Miriam and I discussed where the accumulation of life’s lessons, both good and bad, formed steppingstones for what was needed next. Who knew that my time in prison would allow me to understand with compassion these women’s fates? (And be so grateful that I got off so easy.) That my time in survival mode would give me the key (I hoped) to getting General Elliot to let me go into my next lesson. I had to believe I was ready for this. That I could use what I trained and learned along the way to do good. But more importantly, I thought Fate had positioned me for my next big test. The next huge ah-ha.
In theory, I was up to the task.
After all, brave in the face of personal adversity and brave to protect loved ones was different than the brave it takes to put one’s self at risk for a stranger. Everyone on Strike Force had that altruistic kind of bravery. It was probably past time for me to test my own mettle.
“Here’s why I’m the one for the job—when I went to see General Coleridge, the task said I had to go looking for trouble with a capital T. Did you know that Kaylie grew up in Special Agent in Charge Damian Prescott’s neighborhood? They were childhood friends. Kaylie was a tomboy and she had a nickname.”
“Trouble.”
“Yes, sir, and what’s more. Sophia Abadi’s contact, the one who said she could help a female led unit is named Mushkila and that’s Arabic for—”
“Trouble.”
“More or less, yes.”
“They are only showing you images. You already knew that Kaylie’s nickname was Trouble. They could have been picking up on that in your psychic space.”
“I understand. And I get that it could be a coincidence that the two women are called Trouble. Who knows how many strong women are given that nickname? But anything better than a fifty-fifty means we have to consider acting. The NSA picture had a sixty-seven percent chance of it being Kaylie. If it weren’t for that photo, if someone didn’t think, ‘Hey it’s a long shot but let’s send this out,’ then Special Agent in Charge Prescott wouldn’t have been knocking on our door. Everyone thought Kaylie was dead. We’d never know about her children.”
“You think that the wheel of fortune is turning and there’s momentum to get you where you need to be.”
“And that’s all I think it is. I think it’s the wheel, the vehicle, the thing that is positioning me for where I need to be for the next thing I need to do to accomplish my contracts in this life time.”
An actual smile wrinkled General Elliot’s leathery cheeks. “Ah, I see you’ve been talking to Doc.” He stilled. Sniffed. “All right then. Grab your jump bag. I’ll make some phone calls to see about getting you over there. I’ll reroute Strike Force, and they’ll meet you in the sand box.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Yep, thanks, Lexi.” Doc’s voice came over my phone speaker. “Now that we’ve moved through the salutations, you need to take a moment and ground yourself before we get into the fat of this conversation.”
“Alrighty then, freak-out it is!” I forced a laugh.
“This is information. That’s all it is.”
“Sure. Okay.” I was lying on the bed in Striker’s room. Beetle and Bella were stationed on either side of me, lending me their heat while cold washed me from head to foot. “Do you have information from my Akashic Records?”
“Not yet. When I’m doing something that involved, I have a team with me, keeping the space safe. I’m working on getting it scheduled. Right now, I’m calling to share some of the notes that Herman Trudy has transcribed. I wanted to check in on your Earth-plane experiences at the times these notes were written.”
“Ready,” I said and crossed my finger to undo the lie.
“You have your laptop up?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. It felt like I was in one of my doctor’s appointments for my brain injuries. I was always braced for bad news.
“Good. Jumping in then. Indigo mentioned, in the logs, about making an incision before he changed to write in Galaxy print, the squiggle writing. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send all the notes to you that Herman transcribed, but these next few are the ones I want to go over with you. I’m sending it over in legible form one section at a time. I’ll read them aloud as I do. That way we’re on the same thought wave.”
There was a ping. I pressed the accept button on my secure computer.
Doc began, “It says—’I travelled to her and found the girl in a strange state.’ This is Indigo talking about a remote view of you Lexi, two months before you met Angel. Three months before you married. Interesting courting timeline. Pretty short for a life commitment.”
“We married quickly, yes. We wanted to make our vows before he deployed.”
“Gotch’ya.” She continued, “‘She wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t in a coma. She was, how could I express this? Gone, is what I’d say. Her body seemed injured, beaten, and yet it was not. It was like there was an odd veneer of someone else’s injuries on her body, and she was recovering, weak, and open.’” Doc paused. “Do you know what that could mean?”
“Yes, I think so.” I told Doc, briefly, about that first time I went so fully behind the Veil, leaving my body to join with the kidnapped victim. How the punches and slashes had bruised and cut my body. How I’d gone into a recuperative sleep. For three days I had no awareness. When I woke up, Miriam and I discovered that the battle wounds had been like shadows. They weren’t part of my real body experience. I had no vestiges—no scars, no discoloration, no aches nor pains, nothing. “When I was in that recovery trance,” I told Doc, “I would have been weak, and I suppose also open—if he meant that in an etheric way. The dates line up.”
“I can’t imagine the Miriam Laugherty I know allowing you to do that,” Doc said.
“She didn’t. We were both shocked by the turn of events.”
“That had never happened before?”
“Exactly. Something changed. Possibly it was this thing Indigo was trying.” I swallowed hard. “Indigo had written in his log, ‘My first experiment was successful. I was able to make an incision. I think I’ll watch it for a day and see what happens.’ From that passage, do you suppose he could have cut into me somehow? Into my aura or my…I don’t know, into something?”
“I don’t know. Lexi, breathe. I’ll take a look at that clairvoyantly. I may have more questions for you later about that experienc
e.”
“What does that mean, the Gemini experiment? A Gemini is a twin.” I blinked at the bedroom wall. “I’m wondering if he found a way to make—I don’t know—a copy of someone’s experiences?” My mind raced.
“Speculation can cloud the truth. Let’s not follow those thoughts, right now. Give me time to check your records and see if that is even a possibility.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I both wanted to know and didn’t. A little courage here, Lexi, I chided myself.
“Looking further down the page,” Doc said. “We’re reading from the next step that starts, ‘I couldn’t have found her,’ That’s you.”
“Yes.” I had my arm over my eyes, trying to come to grips with the idea that mad-hatter Indigo had experimented on me in the ether.
“‘I couldn’t have found her in a better condition. She was ethereally vulnerable. And at the same time, the boy.’ That’s Angel.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, my hand moving to wrap my throat.
“Yes, Indigo spells it out later on the page. He writes, ‘And at the same time, the boy seems to be under anesthesia as they repair something in his shoulder.’”
I searched back in my memory. I was at the gym with Angel. He was wearing a tank top. My fingers had traced over new scars. “Angel told me that he had a shoulder full of shrapnel before Thanksgiving that year. He’d been afraid they’d send him stateside to recover. He didn’t want to leave his team in Iraq a man down. I don’t know the exact date of his surgery, though. That timeline could make sense. Me and my out of body experience. Angel and the shrapnel. Striker and Tabitha AKA Scarlet Vine dating, I think this was about the time when she was trying out Sebastian Rheas as a baby boy’s name.”
“It’s noted that whatever Indigo did, it was timed so that he could observe the effects before Indigo arranged for you two to meet.”
“The beginning of November until the end of January. There was a time difference of not quite three months. The night Angel and I met, Indigo had his henchmen, Frith and Wilson, set my apartment building on fire. I guess Indigo specifically picked the date of the fire to match up with Angel’s visit with Abuela Rosa. And perhaps he was waiting to see if Striker gave his daughter an engagement ring. Tabitha thought Striker was down range on assignment, but when she saw him at a party, he ducked her.” Out of loyalty to Striker—not wanting Doc to think badly of him—I added, “Striker had broken up with Tabitha that December.”
Doc said, “Let’s look at this next part. Indigo wrote, ‘It’s done! I feel a bit like a mad scientist. I have to admit it was like being a Nazi doctor conducting human experiments. Soul be damned.’ That’s the last that he wrote about that. Then moving forward, I’ll post another section to your screen now.”
“Soul be damned”? His or mine? Angel’s? Was this why Angel was in Hell?
The computer dinged. I tapped and brought up the new passage.
“Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Soul be damned? My lips were buzzing.
“Here Indigo says, ‘I’m going to get Spyder back to Washington. It’s as if the universe is aligning to help me. It’s all so perfect.’”
“You can almost hear the evil scientist with his bwahahaha!” I said.
“It’s evil. We agree on that. Okay, we’re on the second paragraph. ‘Maybe there is such thing as Karma and now it’s finally serving my needs. The boy is finally on leave and coming to see his great aunt. On the Earth level, I can see if this is the way that I can get Tabitha what she wants from a relationship with Striker. If I’m right, what a great night! Frith will be burning down the nest, forcing the baby bird away from the clucking hens, making her vulnerable to Wilson’s attack.’ Sounds like Indigo’s been giving you a rough ride for years now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And it seemed his influence continued even after his death.
“Then he wrote, ‘Lexi will call Spyder in to save her. The boy will have arrived, but he won’t be in the picture to save her from Wilson, Angel will be right back in the field. Three weeks. According to my tasked views. Will this be enough time? Note: make sure Frith sees the boy arrive. I want the reaction of Lexi and Angel’s meeting captured on video. The ramifications of this experiment can be immense!!!’”
“Three exclamation points,” I said.
“He was rather excited about what he did. Yep. Crazy. I will tell you I looked clairvoyantly at what happened after Indigo’s death. His essence has been sequestered from his learning group. Essence being the word used when it’s no longer a reincarnating soul. Some people just call it a “being.” He’ll be sequestered off and no longer be allowed to manifest in a body form. He’s done.”
“I can’t say that gives me any comfort.”
“I assume not. Ready for the last part?” Doc asked. “This one speaks to your ongoing issues now that Angel died.”
“I’m not ready but go ahead, anyway.”
“Indigo writes, ‘I looked forward in time, Lexi is receiving news that Angel is dead. I hadn’t thought of this. I’m not sure what will happen to her now. It’s a part of the experiment that I hadn’t considered, and yet, what a great test to see how things work out on the body level.’ You have no idea what this could be?”
“I do. Indigo and Tabitha when she was calling herself Scarlet were trying to psychically influence Striker and make him love her and marry her.”
“She’s not in his learning group. I know because I worked with Indigo when he was on the Galaxy project. I researched his learning group, his family, his fellow Galaxy operators, and so on. Of course, his wife, son, and daughter were part of that. Spyder was not. Elliot was not. I was not. Having contact doesn’t mean you’re from the same group. But we have sister groups if you will. Groups that like to bump up against each other and crosspollinate our storylines. Sort of like good genetics, it’s important to mix things up to keep everyone healthy.”
“Miriam taught me a bit about that but in passing. Nothing in depth.”
“It’s a whole spiritual study. You don’t need to worry about it. Just that Tabitha and Striker didn’t have the potential on the soul level to marry because they’re from different learning groups. Let’s read on. ‘Striker has a dangerous job. He’s not searchable in the ether, just like Spyder and Elliot aren’t—they’re too dense. Same with Angel. It was fortunate, and I think divinely constructed, that Lexi and Angel were vulnerable in the same time frame. A time when I felt compelled to go and check on them. God is on my side. It’s interesting to note that when I try to check on Angel, I could find him when he was in the German hospital and when he was visiting America, but when he’s in the Middle East, the psychic pollution coupled with his own protections make it impossible. Lexi, too, when she’s not in crisis can’t be read. Fortunately for me, she is frequently in crisis. I just need to send myself on the right task, making sure that I don’t compromise the data by having a desired outcome in mind. That’s what’s been tripping Tabby Cat up as she’s been looking at Striker. I’m merely there to observe and counsel. Except for my little experiment. In that case, I’m God’s right hand.’”
“I should be more frightened hearing this than I am,” I said. “This has a familiarity to it.”
I stopped to weigh those words and decided they were accurate. “Reading these notes, we know Indigo did something in the ether. If it was meant to hurt me, I don’t think I’d be able to tell the difference in mental pain that November. My mother had just died. I thought my grief was what opened me like that to the psychic connection behind the Veil. I can say for sure that things got markedly bad—emotionally, psychically—when Angel deployed. The day we got married, though, was my first note from stalker Wilson. I had a nightmare almost every night. From the time Angel took off. But after he died, the connection was different. The pain of being his wife has never eased. This last ten days. I honestly don’t think I can survive it. I don’t want to go through life feeling like this. It’s torture.”
“Interesting you
should use that word,” Doc said. “Putting up the next section.”
Ding, the computer sounded. I tapped the button.
Doc read, “‘The torture of Angel’s death is compounded by Lexi’s own physical circumstances. She is trying to form a real-world relationship with Striker, but I can see that the energy of her ties to Angel is preventing this. Interesting note: in remote viewing sessions, I’m shown the picture of Angel and Lexi in the judge’s chamber taking their vows. It’s a sticking point. I even see Striker and Lexi want to make vows at a future time, but Lexi will be unable to say those words to him. I have decided that I won’t attempt this intervention on Tabitha and Striker. It seems that it would cause her too much pain even after death. Curious. I wonder why that would be. I have a hypothesis: Dead Angel is connected to live-Lexi. Though Angel’s body was buried, that is but a life vessel. Angel wouldn’t need a physical body for his soul as long as Lexi is alive. Lexi is the vessel that transports her soul, and hence Angel’s as well. Ergo, Angel is both dead and alive. His soul can’t rest until Lexi dies. I’ll continue to watch this. It’s an interesting twist. Following along with these thoughts, I postulate that the problem for Lexi marrying Striker is that she swore an oath to Angel, ‘until death do us part.’ How little does she realize that’s exactly right. Until her body is dead, she will be tied to Angel. Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. It could just as well be true that they will always be bound for eternity, perhaps not even death can separate them. Still, I need to find a way to change the future for Tabby Cat and Striker. I have an idea. My next experiment will be on General Elliot. If this works on the general, I can work on Striker next.’”
Well then. I lay there silently. That was when he started thinking about influencing General Elliot. Not just as an experiment on the general but as another Guinea pig to trap Striker.
“Lexi? Are you okay?” Doc asked. “I’ve been sending you golden light to help you through all this.”