Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection Page 28

  He watched a movie projected onto the wall in front of him, a set of headphones covering his ears, also. However, it wasn’t a movie. It was old TV — Andy Griffith. Opie and Andy walking down a dirt road with fishing poles and big smiles.

  Harvey began whistling the comedy show’s theme song in lieu of the real thing, probably echoing what was being piped into the guy’s ears in the Psychological Enhancement room below.

  I got lost in reminiscing — until I heard a clank behind me. I feared it was the bolt of an M-16 slamming into place against a chambered bullet.

  When I turned, I was somewhat relieved to see Dr. Yumi standing in front of the bolted door, even though she was holding a 9mm Makarov like the one Michelle had pulled on me. She was the third woman to have directed a gun barrel at me since sunset. I hoped the weapon was as much for my protection as for hers. Still not a hundred percent sold on her Falon Gong story, she had won some of my trust by apparently saving Sunny’s life and mine.

  With her pistol pointed at me, Yumi said, “What you are doing is extremely dangerous, for both of us.”

  I pretended not to consider the implication that she might have to shoot me. “Watching TV?”

  “The old television and movies in the files before you help demonstrate American family values, stable family relationships with quiet discipline.”

  “Okay,” I said, a little puzzled. “What is this place?” I tipped my head toward the room below.

  “Have you ever wondered why you relate so much of the world around you to television, commercials and movies?”

  I frowned at her without reply, unsure of where she was going with this question.

  She said, “You want it all in one quick, neat little package?”

  “Well, yeah, since my son’s life and mine are in danger, and I’ve been thrown around town like I’m some sort of puppet in the hands of a three-year-old.”

  “You are not going to get it all wrapped up nicely.” She shook her head. “It does not come that way.”

  “Go ahead, I’m a big boy.”

  “Since you are here now, perhaps seeing for yourself is of benefit, your knowing as much as time allows might help our cause.”

  Harvey said, Here comes that “Falon Gong” thing.

  “Shoot . . . ,” I said, and then remembered the pistol in her right hand, “ . . . uh, let’s hear it.”

  She motioned for me to go out the door. We went down the hall of viewing rooms to the end space, I guessed because it would be the last one anyone might use. Inside was an empty station, and through the large picture window, the room in front of it was dark.

  She had me sit at the counter.

  “The computer in front of you is in sleep mode. Move the mouse and type in the password Brainstorm.”

  A puzzle piece fit into place. Brainstorm was the project name Major Jackson had asked me about. I took off my helmet, sat at the seat in front of the counter and did as she instructed. The computer came alive.

  “Now, look for the file Subject 374.”

  Chapter 28

  I repeated, “Subject three seventy-four?”

  “Yes,” Yumi said. “It is your file. You were the three hundred and seventy-fourth subject. The twelfth Robert Weller — however, the first to live. Through hypnotic suggestion, the townspeople knew your name, thinking you were their neighbor, the hardware storeowner, by the brown coat and trousers you wore.”

  As she went on, I remembered how Mr. Banks had recalled my name by the brown clothing I was wearing. Her comment “the first to live” was bothersome.

  “In you,” she said, “we have found the most promise. Your potential ranks high across the entire gamut of psychic abilities, from telepathy to telekinesis. Your thought projection skills are incredible, as are your remote viewing capabilities. When Captain Vanzandtz defected to us over ten years ago, it became quite a coup for our Brainstorm project. She brought with her hundreds of names of the people, mostly students, she’d tested over the years and a database of thousands from other Central Intelligence Agency and Defense Intelligence Agency projects including Grill Flame, Sun Streak, Star Gate, Thousand Eyes. Your name topped her list. Added to a list of thousands from around the world, Xiang began gathering them — abducting the more gifted when the opportunity arose.

  “Many of the subjects were either too weak or the drugs and mental stress they were subjected to were too strong. Most before you either died or were disposed of. Some were only useful in limited ways. We learned through trial and error the best combination to fit our needs. You would be interested to know Subject 375 was your friend Mike Wu — Colonel Wu. He volunteered, seeking the power our project could unlock. In fact, his implant is a new and improved version. He has a stainless-steel covered, copper plate imbedded in his forehead to help direct his power. You must avoid him at all costs.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I believe we’ve already had one of those my-magic-is-better-than-your-magic sort of run-ins at the store.”

  She continued, “The rest of the subjects — blanks, we call them — are here and in various stages of programming. They come from all walks of life. All races and not only Americans. However Xiang had chosen to use mostly super-power nationalities such as English, Russian, French.”

  When the file Subject 374 appeared in the computer window, it showed four folders. PhaseOne contained Acquire and Arrival. PhaseTwo contained Clean, Program, Personal, and Sensory. PhaseThree contained PracticalApplication. And PhaseFour held Surveillance.

  “Open PhaseTwo, Program,” Yumi instructed.

  When I did, a long list of movie files opened.

  Yumi told me, “Pick one.”

  “There are so many.”

  “Nearly ten thousand hours’-worth. During programming the subject is only allowed four hours sleep per day.”

  The one I selected was labeled TVCommercialsModern9.avi. A Dentisol toothpaste commercial began playing. It spoke of “Nothing is better than a clean mouth.” Next came a Norelco commercial, then Chevrolet. I fast-forwarded through Downy, La-Z-Boy, Goodyear, Sears, Wal-Mart, Doritos, MacDonald’s and countless others.

  “Try another folder,” Yumi said.

  I clicked on MotionPicturesModern4. In this file were subfolders — everything from MyBigFatGreekWedding, all three LordoftheRings, Something’sGottaGive, TotalRecall, Scanners, and ThePassionofChrist — even TheDavinciCode, as well as over a dozen James Bond movies and more. I clicked on one.

  The movie GangsofNewYork came on.

  In MotionPicturesClassic7 I found Mr.DeedsGoestoWashington, GonewiththeWind, TheManchurianCandidate, TheSandPebbles, Dracula, and surprise, surprise, Harvey.

  Yumi said, “Perhaps you’ve noticed when you see something that seems familiar to you, many times your mind will access the memory of a movie or television commercial? At times the thoughts come to you inappropriately humorous or perhaps the opposite.”

  I stared at the screen. “Yeah,” I said flatly.

  “That is because these are all your mind has to associate with reality. This is what you were programmed with.”

  I scanned the list of folders and subfolders. There was a huge News file with hundreds of subfolders including ones named Challenger&Columbia, PanAmflight103 and WorldTradeCenter. Another huge file was titled TV and its subfolders contained titles like Soaps, Games, SitComs, Series, and Documentaries. Inside were files called Survivor, GeneralHospital, Friends, Jeopardy, DiscoveryChannel, and CrocodileHunter.

  I tried the Personal folder. Inside it was a file called HomeMovies, and a subfolder called SixthBirthday.avi. The camera shot was of a birthday cake with a crowd of children around it. In the background were a couple of adults I recognized as my parents. I remembered this movie as my sixth birthday and I watched it, astonished. On the screen, the children and my parents were looking at the camera, singing Happy Birthday to it. However, there was something odd about this movie. A child’s hands and arms reached out from the camera toward the table, and I realized the
camera must have been on the child’s shoulder, or perhaps some sort of a helmet cam, like I’d seen occasionally on televised car races and football games — like I’d probably watched in a room like the one before me.

  Yumi said, “Those are no more your parents than they are mine. The memory of your true parents has been washed away.”

  The thought of it made me grimace.

  There were a number of other Birthday files. I skipped them and went to the Wedding.avi one.

  As I suspected, the film was shot from the groom’s perspective as if he also wore a helmet cam. Michelle was the bride. She looked slightly younger. Mike Wu wore a tuxedo and stood beside the cameraman. The camera came in real close to Michelle’s face for the wedding kiss. Her lips and eyes so close. My eyes began to tear.

  I clicked on a different file.

  This one was of Will. He wore a Little League Baseball outfit. He stood with a bat over his shoulder. An arm came out from below the camera and pitched a ball to him. He hit it and the camera followed the ball until it bounced and rolled to a tree.

  In another file was the view from a walking person, this scene looking familiar. It was of the same route I had taken to work the day before. It also showed the same route from a driver’s point of view in what I remembered as our Buick. There was a scene from the viewpoint of a person walking from room to room through our house. Then came the scene from bed. The viewpoint was of a person lying there, looking toward the make-up table where Michelle sat, naked, as she brushed her hair and rubbed on lotion.

  “At this point,” Yumi said, “an assistant would bring in the lotion and other olfactory prompts to give the memory more depth and realism.”

  Then came a similar scene of the hardware store. It took time as the viewer inspected a number of different products on the shelves. The viewpoint went to the cash register and went through its operation.

  Yumi said, “A narrator accompanies this portion as well as most of the other scenes during actual programming.”

  I clicked on another file, this one labeled FootballGame.avi.

  The video was shot from seats in a football stadium. It panned around at the people filling the seats. Below, the Denver Broncos played the Oakland Raiders. People were cheering. The camera panned back to the seating and as it came up to the seat next to it, the video jumped as if something had been spliced in. The surroundings were similar, but not quite the same, more like some sort of studio shot scene. Mike Wu looked into the camera smiling big — looking back to the game, cheering the Broncos.

  Yumi said, “Go ahead and take a couple of minutes to browse.”

  I did as she suggested and found video labeled Sentimentality — which included ordering of Will’s snow skis. There were audio files, one was of my voice repeating, “Doc Xiang is a big man with a big heart. We’re lucky to have such a caring doctor, don’t you think?” Then, Michelle’s voice saying, “Very lucky. Dr. Xiang is a good man and a good friend.”

  On the last of the Personal files labeled SenatorAvery was the exact morning show interview I’d watched with Michelle the morning before — Senator Avery discussing his thoughts of running for President and his views on China.

  Yumi said, “He was to be your first target.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “We have an entire apartment complex in Washington DC devoted solely to the Brainstorm project. Within the next three months, Xiang hopes to have over a dozen psychic assassins such as you there, each with their own targets. Along with them will be several dozen support personnel including new family members. As much of your old information as possible has been either altered or deleted on numerous U.S. government databases including CIA and FBI fingerprint records that we have been able to hack into. Many of the records were easily altered by psychic persuasion of critical government computer information systems employees — basically accosting and hypnotizing them to alter data without realizing it. You were to have been given your new identification complete with social security number, credit cards, birth certificate and even school transcripts — we’ve been cultivating the many paper personalities for over twenty years.”

  Now, I’d finally come to the point that I doubted who I thought I was. Up until this, nothing they’d told me made much sense. I chose not to believe most of it, not to consider the possibility it was true. Now, I wondered who I really was, but I wasn’t prepared to ask her now. The information Dr. Yumi had already given me was overwhelming. I asked, “What would happen if someone from my past ran into me? How could that be explained?”

  “Very rarely would you leave the secure apartment. You would only think you had left after daily hypnosis sessions in which it would be suggested to you that you had visited your son at Bethesda, went to a restaurant, to a shopping center. On the rare occasions it was necessary for you to leave, you would be tasked with your assassination mission. During those times you would be watched, a team of troubleshooters always prepared to, let us say, fix any problem. All you had to do to complete your missions would be to make visual contact with your targets.

  “Because of an implanted, hypnotically suggested dislike for the person — for example because of the target being against funding that could mean the difference between having a normal son and a paraplegic one, your subconscious brain would go into a defensive posture. With your telepathic abilities, your subconscious mind would reach out to the target’s own brainwaves. The enhancement device we developed works like an automobile coil. It amplifies your brainwaves and helps direct them with greater force to the target. Your brain then tells the target’s central nervous system to shut down. It tells the target’s brain to stop all involuntarily commands to the heart, lungs and other bodily functions, and the target dies instantly.”

  “Like the people I’ve already killed.”

  “Yes. Exactly. Your subconscious sampled their thoughts, found them harmful and considered those people threats to your well-being. The only ones safe from you were the ones you weren’t threatened by or those who were wearing the copper-lined helmets. The copper protects the wearer from outside electronic fields and signals of all types. That is how the brain functions — through electrical signals. It sends commands in the form of these electrical signals through the body’s nervous system to perform all tasks and operations. The brain’s constant electrical communication with the body actually causes an electronic field — some people claim to be able to see it as an aura. In your case, your brain defends you through its enhanced telepathic powers which are transmitted much in the same way, however, more like through a directed surge of power from that electrical field.”

  “I’m a murderer.”

  “No. You defended yourself. All of those who were killed were willing participants in the Brainstorm project. None were coerced support personnel or an innocent subject such as yourself.”

  This gave me but a little solace.

  “We have many peoples of many different interests working here. A number are former Soviet KGB agents, like the two men who chased you from your store. They and a number of their colleagues were unneeded when the new Russia emerged, and they were laid off from their cold-war jobs. There are many willing participants besides the Russians, and my fellow Chinese, of course, including North Korean, and North Vietnamese, as well as Pakistani, Iranian, Iraqi, Libyan, Cuban — and yes, even American.”

  What I was hearing was nearly overwhelming — the scope of this project horrifying.

  I selected the file named PhaseOne. Inside were two files — Acquire and Arrival.

  In Acquire, I found a scene viewed from the open cargo door of a van. There were several men inside, one hunkered in front of the camera with a silenced rifle. The van was parked at the curb, a hotel marquis in clear view, probably a hundred feet away. The sign said Seoul Hilton. A man walked out, past the doorman, and began hailing a cab. The man was too far away to be recognized — it could have even been me. But he wore a hat and a suit and tie. I didn’t like hats and
detested ties — almost never wore one, at least, that’s what my programmed mind told me.

  The man with the rifle suddenly discharged it, and the guy in the suit grabbed himself at the shoulder.

  “That is you,” Yumi said.

  In the video, four men pushed out of the front door of the hotel like linebackers and bum rushed the man in the suit — me, I conceded for now. I kicked the first one in the face, gave an elbow to the gut of the second one and the knife-edge of my hand to the throat of the third guy. The fourth man made the tackle and managed to cover my head with a black cloth hood as I obviously became groggy.

  The van lurched forward and pulled up to the front of the hotel. It took four of them a few seconds to wrangle me into the van. They restrained me, still hooded, with nylon ties and duct tape. Two of the men then pulled the guy I’d struck in the throat into their vehicle, and the van sped away as the cargo door closed.

  When the video went blank, I tried to shake this craziness from my mind. I was living a nightmare.

  I selected a file named PhaseOneArrival.

  It showed a man through a wire-reinforced, glass pane in a thick door. His face was unclear. He had a light beard and bandaged head, and he sat in the corner wearing a straightjacket. The room inside was white and empty.

  “It is you, again” Yumi said.

  It could have been me. But it was impossible to be sure without being able to see this man’s face clearly.

  In the video, three men in blue scrubs rushed into the room, and the disheveled, bound man launched up and rammed his head and shoulders into them. They lifted the man from his feet and bulldogged him to the floor. This video then went blank.

  If nothing else, I felt good about the fight I put up.

  The Blank.avi file had me curious. It was nearly a gigabyte in size.

  As I clicked on it, Yumi said, “This was taken during your recovery after the operation to attach the enhancement device to your brainstem.”