Controller: Controller Trilogy, Book 1

by Stephen W Bennett

  “Do unto them as they do unto us?”

  “And do it first and better. Yes.”

  They hadn’t heard yet from Mike, who was in a stall several doors away. The flush announced his readiness, and the door swung open. “Hi, boss.”

  “Congratulations Mike. There can’t be any public recognition for what you and Dan accomplished, but those of us in the BII know what you two risked, and how improbable it was that you’d find that agent before the South Koreans did. Are you two sure he’s North Korean?”

  “He did look Korean,” Mike acknowledged, “But we can’t say he was from the North. You can see for yourself in that cooler, but it’s probably his equipment that will tell us for certain if he was from the North. He had nothing in his pockets in the way of identification, and we didn’t think we had the time to take his clothing.”

  Brogan looked puzzled. “What can I see for myself?” He looked at the ordinary blue and white cooler just inside the stall Grayson had occupied.

  “We have his head. We couldn’t provide any details on the unsecured line.”

  “Jesus. You couldn’t simply remove the helmet?”

  Grayson said, “He has what we think are electrodes connected to studs drilled or screwed into his skull, leading to areas of his brain. Those studs fit into metal slots on the inside of the helmet. If the bullet I put through his brain didn’t damage them, perhaps you can find out where they placed the electrodes.”

  “Damn. You did better than we knew because having the brain wired wasn’t something we even considered doing. Our scientists are sure that isn’t needed, but they may have been wrong. We need to get that to a laboratory, and the BII doesn’t have one up to the job. The CIA will have what we need for the electronic technology, but perhaps the FBI has the forensics for the head. I don't know, but I’ll elevate this to the National Security Council. We need answers right away, and very tight security. We aren’t just worried about foreign Compellers, either.” He looked pointedly at Grayson.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Stiles is in Washington, and he tried to get into the visitor’s gallery while the House of Representatives was in session. That happened yesterday afternoon before you started for home.”

  “You caught him?” It was a hopeful question.

  “No, and it wasn’t until later when we fed the security images into a facial recognition database with his face parameters included, that we identified him. He tried to influence another visitor to give him their gallery admission ticket, and Jerome Whitaker was barely close enough to sense the command. They missed him, and he was seen walking out of a bathroom and left the building, apparently aware of the disturbance he caused. He won’t make that mistake again, and we’ll get all the databases updated with his face, and place them all on continuous feeds for the Capitol building, Whitehouse grounds, and the Supreme Court.

  “I’ll be talking to Jerome and the other Immune on duty in the House chamber yesterday, and to Dalia, who helped them with some indignant ticket holder that refused to show his ID. They may have seen more than they know, and I’ll let them see the recordings. Dalia was with us in Louisville, so she knows what Stiles looks like, which means she didn’t see him here or she’d have let the others know.”

  Mike and Grayson shared meaningful looks, and Mike took the lead in responding.

  “It isn’t a guarantee that Dalia didn’t see him, Sir. He’s a strong Controller. I can tell you first hand that someone with strong enough mind control signal can make a Compeller behave just like any normal person, or a Susceptible, the way Stiles describes them. I became just another puppet for that North Korean agent when he got too close to me with that transmitter. Dan here remained completely immune, but I would have used a rifle that I Compelled a uniformed officer to hand over, and I would have died charging a pair of tanks to protect the enemy agent. Dan saved my life. Stiles might have made Dalia ignore seeing him.”

  Brogan shook his head. “She was with two Immunes the entire time. They would have sensed the attempt.”

  Mike nodded his head, relieved to hear that. He was still feeling guilty that he’d let Grayson down in Seoul.

  “Wait, though,” Brogan objected. “You say you weren’t simply distracted in Seoul; you were under his full control?”

  “Yes, to the point of willing to risk almost certain suicide to do what he ordered me and dozens of others to do, in a group broadcast. Dan sensed what was happening and stopped me. Here’s another new twist, Dan can send his thoughts. Or at least he can cancel or block commands sent by a powerful Controller if he’s close enough to you. He did it to me and temporarily made me an Immune. I even knew where that damned agent was, and his thoughts were in my head, although I knew they were not my thoughts. It didn’t last long, but I could feel when it started to wear off, and I warned Dan to do whatever he did to me again, to restore my Immunity.”

  Brogan looked at Grayson. “You have a suppressed Compel gene as do I. Do you think that became active?”

  “Not if what Mike told me is accurate. He didn’t sense or understand any of the thoughts I sent; I was trying to order him to ignore the commands from Agent-X. I was right next to him, inches from his head, and Agent-X was about a hundred feet away. I think I may have outpowered his transmitter from short range, and the effect lasted for at least five minutes while the agent was still sending his signals. I appear to have projected my Immune ability to him. I don’t know if a single Immune can do that, or if a transmitter like the one in that cooler can make an Immune able to send a stronger effect than I can on my own.

  “If it can do that, it may be an answer to protecting Compellers from what Mike experienced. I spent some time thinking about this as we worked our way out of the subway tunnels in Seoul. I wonder if I can make anyone temporarily immune, such as someone Stiles calls a Susceptible. If we can figure out that transmitter system, we may have a means to protect entire areas from the effects of a Compeller if an Immune used that transmitter. I’ll tell you right now, however. Nobody will drill holes in my head to hook me up.”

  Brogan looked at him with obvious amusement, and told him, “Of course not, we aren't North Korea.” Then he changed to another subject.

  “Sorry Dan, I know you’re tired, but until we get this cooler to a secure place, I want you to stay with it all the way. If that agent could make Mike obey, I can’t help but wonder if he could overwhelm even a single Immune like me. At high enough power, would even you succumb? Would a transmitter like that work from an aircraft, or from a satellite? This Goddammed technology will spread, just as soon as countries with Compellers learn about the events in South Korea. All of them will be working on duplicating that technology. If they realize we stole the equipment, someone that knows where BII agents are based might try to steal the equipment from us. I’m sending you to a Maryland lab we’ve used for studying mind control signals and its range.”

  ****

  Stiles felt a rare pair of sensations, for him. Shock and amazement. “A psych transmitter? Are you shitting me?... No, of course, you can’t be lying. But really. A frigging third world country like North Korea invented one?” He sent a mental question.

  Is the BII certain that’s what it is?

  Dalia replied in a friendly tone, as she was inclined to maintain with her newest confidential best friend, a newly recruited BII agent named Bashar Haddad, who like her, was also of Arabic descent. He was a tall, dark, handsome man she’d bumped into outside her favorite take-out restaurant. Her car had a dead battery, and he gave her a ride home. It was remarkable to meet another BII agent that way, but he’d shown her his badge. Or so she believed.

  Nodding, she answered, “It’s the most likely option. The North wants to disrupt the South, and there were high ranking government figures at the soccer game. Kim Jung-Un would never welcome any Compeller near him, so sending one on a suicide mission with such an amplifier is something that can’t be proven was conducted by the DPRK if the South killed h
im.”

  They were sharing her order of Shrimp, mushrooms, and vegetables. He graciously fed her, considering her sprained wrists, suffered in a fall a short time ago. She didn’t recall what she’d fallen over, and the pain had diminished to a tightness from the swelling at each wrist. Bashar was such a gentleman.

  Stiles checked the ties at her wrists to make sure they remained snugged to the arms of the sturdy table chair. Then he offered her another plump shrimp with a mushroom piece on the same fork.

  A semblance of reality helped maintain the falsehoods he projected into her mind, along with whatever her fantasy male figure would be like, which she considered Stiles to be. She called him Bashar and had asked where his last name of Haddad originated. Stiles said he was second generation American, and his father had been born in Indianapolis. His Indiana Midwest accent would fit without explanation. It was best to limit the number of details that could tug at a Tool’s mind, to cause them to question their current belief system. It wouldn’t last, but it didn’t need to endure more than a couple of hours.

  He had pulled many details about the BII out of her, and the technical abilities of the two basic types of agent, the Compellers and Immunes, with an added subclass recently encountered for each. A double Compeller, being called a Controller, and there was a double Immune.

  When he learned the term Controller came from his notebooks, he was astounded. He had forgotten about those and had believed their hiding place was secure when he was a young teen. The revelation that he was the criminal the BII had gone to Louisville to find was no surprise, but hearing he was the only one with two active copies of this gene variant stoked his ego and explained to him how he was able to manipulate this Compeller so easily. She could compel people, but not Control them in the dominant manner he employed.

  It was apparent that any Immune was resistant to his mind control, but there was one that had an unusual ability, also from Louisville. That man could sense details other Imuunes couldn’t detect and know who was sending the commands, and where they were. Stiles felt a chill. He was certain it had to be the man from the mall. He learned the man’s name was Daniel Grayson, and that he was now a new BII agent like the imaginary Bashar Haddad supposedly was.

  Where is Grayson now? He didn’t want that Immune anywhere near him again. Dead would be best.

  “He went to South Korea, to try to find the North Korean agent, and capture or kill him, and bring his device back to the United States. Another Compeller went with him. I wanted to go, but my boss picked a man. The damn glass ceiling, as usual, I think.”

  That worried Stiles. Did they get the device?

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I probably won’t hear anything before they return to Andrews.”

  He asked out loud this time. “Is that Andrews Air Force Base?” He remembered that base name from his long-ago high school trip.

  “It was renamed Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility in 2011. The team flew out on a B-1 bomber, which they used for its speed.”

  “What will the BII do with the device if it’s recovered?”

  “I guess duplicate it. Make it more powerful; I don’t know.”

  That prospect bothered Stiles. He had just learned he was the most powerful known Controller in America. This bitch or any of her fellow Compellers would exceed his ability with that artificial help. Unless he also had a psych amplifier.

  “When will the team return?”

  “As soon as they have the device, or if the South Koreans capture it first.”

  He realized he needed to stake out Andrews. To discover if that mission was successful, or learn where he could acquire one of those transmitters. With his ability and a strong enough transmitter, he could control an entire city, or perhaps make a state his domain, if he could boost the signal strength enough.

  “I have more questions, but I have somewhere to go. Let me get you some fruit for dessert. Would you like to eat a banana, Dalia?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He walked behind her and paused to reach into his pocket, saying, “Let me peel it for you.”

  Stepping back to the front, he used a knife to cut her left nylon tie, aware that she was right-handed, and that caution was still reasonable.

  “Here’s a fresh banana, place it in your mouth, but don’t bite until I say to eat it, OK? It’s a bit of a naughty tease.”

  She blushed, but answered, “OK.”

  Handing her the spare revolver he’d carried in his pocket, he stood back and watched as she opened her pouty full lips, and placed the barrel on her lower teeth, looking at him with her large, trusting, dark eyes, a half smile on her lips.

  “Eat it,” he said, mentally projecting what he expected her to do.

  The loud click as the hammer fell surprised him.

  “Damn, I didn’t think you’d squeeze the trigger.” He glanced at the bullets in his other hand, as he retrieved his revolver.

  “Well, I hate to eat and run, but I need to drive over to Andrews. I should have trusted in my ability.” He drew his automatic and shot her between those beautiful dark eyes.

  ****

  Grayson was at the Maryland lab, where he’d gone to provide escort and protection for the North Korean device. He was looking at X rays and MRI images of the head that he and Gorka had removed from the NK agent. They didn’t mean squat to him.

  “Professor Dothan, if the North Koreans needed to insert leads into this poor slob’s brain to tap his mental commands, why do you say you won’t need to do that?”

  “Agent Grayson, first of all, I’m a Neuroscientist, not a brain surgeon, so I wouldn’t be the one that drilled into anyone’s head to insert the leads. That would be yucky, and I hate yuck.” He laughed at his remark.

  “Second of all, the North Koreans didn’t need to do that either. I think it was part of their intimidation of this helpless bastard, and a means to ensure he could never branch out on his own, or try to force his way back into the North to rescue his family or take revenge.”

  “What do you mean? Why not do it that way? They tapped his brain waves from directly inside his head, right?”

  “Nope. They needed a way to kill him if necessary, and to destroy their device. You and Mike disconnected the antennas the second time after the cable was yanked out of its connector at the stadium. That probably prevented them from detonating the charges then, or when he was trying to escape from Seoul a day later.”

  “Wait! What charges?”

  “Whoever sent him, and we do think it was North Korea, never intended to risk his being captured alive, or to have that equipment recovered intact. He wasn’t supposed to get out of that stadium alive and in one piece. And not because of the good guys. You can bet there was a second agent or even two in the vicinity, certainly out of range of his mind control, with transmitters with enough range to send a coded signal that would blow his head open and detonate the explosives in his fanny pack.”

  “Crap. I thought all that weight was the batteries and a transmitter.”

  “Much of it was, but a pound or so of Semtex, an explosive similar to C4, doesn’t need much to create a powerful blast. They molded it around the transmitter-receiver in that fanny pack, with the detonator wired to the receiver side, which they linked to the antennas in his helmet. Linked, until the cable was ripped free from the screw-on connector on the fanny pack at the stadium. That accident probably saved his life, and he used his natural Compeller ability to make his escape.

  “I’m almost sure he didn’t know his Dear Leader ordered his equipment rigged to explode because he repaired the cable so he could again broadcast his mental commands over a longer range. He hid out until the police found him, and then reconnected the coax cable to the fanny pack. Had he know that was also how his handlers intended to murder him, he’d never have connected it to the antennas again. We can see where he made the repairs to the coax connector. His potential executioners may have been trying to get close enough to him again to set off the char
ges, but you and Gorka got to him first. Good thing you disconnected the cable before you left the shelter of the subway tunnels.”

  “Then why the leads into his brain if they weren’t there to pick up the mental signal?”

  Dothan pointed to the three small dark smears at the ends of the wires on an X-Ray image. “There are small charges there. His head would have splattered along with his body. They probably told him he needed the helmet on his head to expand his range, so the police or army couldn’t get close enough to kill him. Therefore, he reconnected the remote destruction system when they flushed him out of hiding so that he could control thousands of people. The antennas on the helmet didn’t need to be physically placed on his head to destroy the transmitter and receiver. They were there to feed the self-destruct signal to the fanny pack. The sockets in the helmet provided an additional electrical circuit through the studs in his skull to the small explosives in his brain.

  “The detonation signal from his handlers would have left the South Koreans with meat fragments and scraps of electronics. Bad luck ruined that plan at the stadium, and your arrival probably ruined a renewed backup plan when he reconnected the transceiver at a location miles from the stadium and a day later. The poor man needed the transmitter to try to escape, but he didn’t know that with it working, his handlers could kill him if they got close enough when his equipment was operational. I’ll bet the handlers were well on their way out of Seoul when they thought he was captured alive at the game. Agent-X surely knew what they looked like, where they had been staying, and who sent them to Seoul.”

  Grayson wondered how close he came to dying with the agent he killed. “Being down in the subway may have given us extra time to strip the gear off his body if they tried to blow his ass and head off. I guess there’s no luck like dumb luck.”