would believe such a story? He’d end up in a mental
hospital in less than a week.”
“That’s not a chance we can take,” Devlin
said. “We must have plans in place for every contingency. We must
have a reasonable story to disseminate. The best possible outcome
is that Dr. Rehnquist is found and helped.”
“Helped?”
“That’s the correct word, Ray. We’re not
evil men. This is not television where the government is the bad
guy out to hurt the innocent citizen, quite the contrary. We do
what we do because we love our country and care about its
citizens.”
Ray was unmoved by the patriotic speech, but
he had signed on to do the very thing Devlin was asking: fabricate
a fiction so real it would be perceived as fact. “I need to know
everything this Rehnquist might say,” Ray said after a moment’s
silence.
“I’m limited in what I can tell you. I’ve
probably told you too much already, but I can’t see a way around
it.”
“I can’t do a good job without the facts. I
need to know as much as you can tell.”
“You’ve heard enough.”
Ray sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. “Where
do I work?” He glanced around the decrepit barn. “I certainly can’t
work here.”
Devlin smiled and reached into his pants
pocket removing a small, black plastic device. The object reminded
Ray of a keyless remote used to lock and unlock car doors. Devlin
pressed a button on the device. A soft sliding sound came from the
back wall of the barn. Light, dim and yellow, poured from a
vertical slit in the wall. The opening widened until it was large
enough to drive a truck through. The inside of the barn glowed with
the flood of illumination. Ray squinted reflexively and raised a
hand to shield his eyes.
A dark figure moved in the light cutting a
silhouette from the brilliance. Although Ray could see no detail,
he could see enough to know the man carried a weapon, what he
assumed to be an automatic rifle. Another dark figure joined the
man. It took a moment for Ray to realize it was Devlin. He had
moved into the opening.
“Coming?” Devlin asked innocently.
Against his intuition, Ray walked into the
light.
Eight
“As you were, Sergeant,” Devlin
said to the soldier who stood in the newly
opened doorway. He and Ray walked through the opening in the wall.
“No need to frighten our guest.” The guard lowered his weapon. Ray
could see he was standing in what looked to be a small room with no
windows.
“Wear this.” Devlin handed Ray a plastic
badge. “The facility monitors your presence. Someone knows where
you are at all times. Remove the badge and it will be assumed
you’re up to no good. That’s not an assumption you want made. It’s
. . . unhealthy.”
Addressing the sentry, Devlin said, “May I?”
and held out his hand. The soldier removed a key from his pocket,
unlocked a drawer on the desk and removed a small handgun,
extending it grip first to Devlin. “Thank you.”
“You carry a gun in situations like this?”
Ray asked.
“I always carry a gun.” Devlin nodded at the
guard who removed a black remote key identical to the one Devlin
had used earlier. At the press of a button, doors at the back of
the room slid open in near silence revealing an ordinary looking
elevator.
Devlin led the way and Ray followed. Once
inside the elevator cab, Devlin said firmly, “Devlin Chambers,
floor eight with guest.”
A mechanical voice replied: “Devlin Chambers
with guest, floor eight, recognized.”
“State your first and last name,” Devlin
said to Ray, “and say ‘floor eight.’”
Ray complied. The elevator began to
descend.
Sweat poured from Colin’s
face, dripping from the tip of his nose and
flooding his eyes with stinging salt. His brain burned as if
someone had stuck his head in a microwave. The arches of his feet
hurt from standing on the waste pipe, his legs cramped in tight
knots. His knees shook and threatened to give way. Colin inhaled
deeply commanding
hospital in less than a week.”
“That’s not a chance we can take,” Devlin
said. “We must have plans in place for every contingency. We must
have a reasonable story to disseminate. The best possible outcome
is that Dr. Rehnquist is found and helped.”
“Helped?”
“That’s the correct word, Ray. We’re not
evil men. This is not television where the government is the bad
guy out to hurt the innocent citizen, quite the contrary. We do
what we do because we love our country and care about its
citizens.”
Ray was unmoved by the patriotic speech, but
he had signed on to do the very thing Devlin was asking: fabricate
a fiction so real it would be perceived as fact. “I need to know
everything this Rehnquist might say,” Ray said after a moment’s
silence.
“I’m limited in what I can tell you. I’ve
probably told you too much already, but I can’t see a way around
it.”
“I can’t do a good job without the facts. I
need to know as much as you can tell.”
“You’ve heard enough.”
Ray sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. “Where
do I work?” He glanced around the decrepit barn. “I certainly can’t
work here.”
Devlin smiled and reached into his pants
pocket removing a small, black plastic device. The object reminded
Ray of a keyless remote used to lock and unlock car doors. Devlin
pressed a button on the device. A soft sliding sound came from the
back wall of the barn. Light, dim and yellow, poured from a
vertical slit in the wall. The opening widened until it was large
enough to drive a truck through. The inside of the barn glowed with
the flood of illumination. Ray squinted reflexively and raised a
hand to shield his eyes.
A dark figure moved in the light cutting a
silhouette from the brilliance. Although Ray could see no detail,
he could see enough to know the man carried a weapon, what he
assumed to be an automatic rifle. Another dark figure joined the
man. It took a moment for Ray to realize it was Devlin. He had
moved into the opening.
“Coming?” Devlin asked innocently.
Against his intuition, Ray walked into the
light.
Eight
“As you were, Sergeant,” Devlin
said to the soldier who stood in the newly
opened doorway. He and Ray walked through the opening in the wall.
“No need to frighten our guest.” The guard lowered his weapon. Ray
could see he was standing in what looked to be a small room with no
windows.
“Wear this.” Devlin handed Ray a plastic
badge. “The facility monitors your presence. Someone knows where
you are at all times. Remove the badge and it will be assumed
you’re up to no good. That’s not an assumption you want made. It’s
. . . unhealthy.”
Addressing the sentry, Devlin said, “May I?”
and held out his hand. The soldier removed a key from his pocket,
unlocked a drawer on the desk and removed a small handgun,
extending it grip first to Devlin. “Thank you.”
“You carry a gun in situations like this?”
Ray asked.
“I always carry a gun.” Devlin nodded at the
guard who removed a black remote key identical to the one Devlin
had used earlier. At the press of a button, doors at the back of
the room slid open in near silence revealing an ordinary looking
elevator.
Devlin led the way and Ray followed. Once
inside the elevator cab, Devlin said firmly, “Devlin Chambers,
floor eight with guest.”
A mechanical voice replied: “Devlin Chambers
with guest, floor eight, recognized.”
“State your first and last name,” Devlin
said to Ray, “and say ‘floor eight.’”
Ray complied. The elevator began to
descend.
Sweat poured from Colin’s
face, dripping from the tip of his nose and
flooding his eyes with stinging salt. His brain burned as if
someone had stuck his head in a microwave. The arches of his feet
hurt from standing on the waste pipe, his legs cramped in tight
knots. His knees shook and threatened to give way. Colin inhaled
deeply commanding
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