by Bill Brewer
“You helped him escape and then you lost him and now he has committed one of the world’s worst acts of terrorism. What does that make you? An accomplice? A terrorist? An idiot? What the hell are you?”
Carolyn snapped a look at Ramsey, which defied his insolent accusations. She felt the sting of his words, but she knew she was neither a terrorist nor an idiot.
“I did not help him do any of this.”
“Oh no? This wasn’t part of the plan when you helped him cross the ocean?”
“Instead of wasting our time, let’s get to work investigating who was behind this.”
“Yeah right, I’ve seen this before where the perpetrator is the one actually directing the investigation to make certain they are never found.”
“Richard, that’s crazy. This isn’t some lame TV show. We’ve got a real crime and we need to pursue and adjudicate the real culprits.”
With a shake of his head Ramsey said, “It is a crime on British soil, the London police and MI5 will lead the investigation. We will do nothing unless requested, but I want you to be available for questioning… on background.”
Carolyn locked her gaze on Ramsey. “I had nothing to do with this and you have no grounds to consider me a suspect.”
As Carolyn leaned forward, her belly protruded with the unyielding solidity of a pregnant abdomen. Ramsey noticed the substantial roundness of her midsection. He had always admired the trim, athletic build of this attractive woman. Richard Ramsey still held a flame for Carolyn Fuller that burned ever since they trained together at the CIA Farm in Virginia. She caught sight of his eyes and drew back into her chair pulling closed her thin cardigan.
Ramsey’s lips formed a mischievous smile. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I don’t have anything to tell you that’s not already all over the media.”
“No, no,” said the man with an, I got ya smile. “I mean something personal?” Ramsey widened his eyes and stared at her belly with an exaggerated expression.
“What are you talking about?” said Carolyn crossing her arms over her belly.
“Come on Carolyn, I’m happy for you. How far along are you?”
Carolyn Fuller went red with embarrassment. She couldn’t deny what others were now able to see, but she was not ready to acknowledge her condition and admit that she was going to be a mother. Abortion had crossed her mind and right now, she wished she’d gone through with it. She offered no reply to Ramsey’s question.
“Also Carolyn, who is the father?”
“That’s none of your business,” she shouted. Carolyn surprised herself with the explosive volume with which she just yelled at her boss. She dropped her eyes, bowing her head to Ramsey.
“Given the sensitive nature of the situation in which we find ourselves, it is imperative that I know the paternity of your unborn child so that a determination of the risk of being compromised can be assessed.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That tone is insubordinate, and given the timing of your pregnancy and your arrival in London, I am curious if the child was conceived in the U.S. or Europe?”
“My body and its functions are not CIA business. If you pursue this I will bring charges against you.”
Ramsey leaned his head back, shaking it from side to side before stating, “Now, now Carolyn, you know that personal relationships are open to scrutiny by the Agency, especially those which develop in foreign countries. Your body may be your own, but the obvious situation involving intimacy with another is clearly open to Agency inquiry.”
“The only way you’re getting any information is through HR.”
“HR?” said Ramsey, raising his eyebrows.
“Human Resources,” replied Carolyn.
“I know what fucking HR stands for. I don’t need to go through them.”
“Title IX requires that you do.”
“Look we’re not talking girls’ softball,” scoffed Ramsey, “Title IX doesn’t apply.”
“Oh yes it does, and if you don’t abide by it, I’ll be glad to see you swing.”
Boss and employee stared at each other until Ramsey broke eye contact. “Carolyn, your condition is obvious and I just want to know if the father represents a risk, that’s all.”
“It’s none of your fucking business and I resent the fact that you think I would compromise the Agency with issues in my personal life. Do whatever you must but there is nothing to find. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”
Carolyn Fuller exited the office and never looked back. Ramsey watched her leave and thought he saw a waddle in her step.
Passing through the hall of the Embassy, Carolyn felt awful, her pregnancy made her feel nauseous, but the oafish behavior of her annoying boss made everything worse. At her office, she put on her beige trench coat and left the building. Walking along the street, she found her emotions welling up. A sob escaped her lips and tears clouded her vision. She kept up her pace while pulling a Kleenex from her pocket to cover her mouth as another sob erupted from her heart. At London Bridge, she stepped to the side of the walkway, her sadness escaping. She looked out over the water so as not to attract attention. She needn’t worry, the pace of everyone’s personal lives provided no time for the despair of a young woman. Carolyn’s vexing situation made her so disappointed. She always wanted children. It was an immediate yes when asked if she intended to have a family of her own, “Of course,” she would answer. The hope she had for starting her family though, was nothing like this. Unwed, with a deep secret about the father being a dead criminal. The video showed David, in the middle of a horrendous act, something she would never imagine the man she got to know ever doing, yet there it was on CCTV. Carolyn couldn’t help but question what she’d seen. The David Diegert she knew had an extremely athletic body. His arms were thick and muscular, with broad shoulders and big chest muscles. His midsection was lean, flat and tight. The guy in the video was just the opposite, he was the right height, but his chest was narrow and thin, shoulders sloping and unremarkable while the abdomen had a paunchy layer of fat that was obvious as the body fell back over the bag. How could Diegert get so out of shape so quickly? When she last saw him, there was no indication he had lost his fitness. She could not however deny the face. The close up of Diegert was unmistakable. The photographic images would serve as a positive ID, since the explosion had vaporized the entire body. Any forensic material would be contaminated by the remains of the multiple victims dispersed all over the crime scene. As she continued along the bridge back to her flat, Carolyn remained sad, knowing that David Diegert was dead and her child would never meet its father.
CHAPTER 13
“What’s he doing here?” asked Klaus Panzer as he looked at Javier Perez through a glass wall in a medical treatment room at LPU.
Avery replied, “I wanted to tell you that David had to change his face to Javier’s during his escape from China.”
“I’ll be damned,” said Panzer, with a tilt of his head. “I totally believed that was Javier.”
“Yes, but it’s David,” clarified Avery.
Panzer strode forward and found the door locked.
Avery said, “He was a bit agitated.”
“Please unlock the door. I want to speak with my son.”
Avery paused as a doubtful look spread over his face. Panzer stoically awaited the door to be opened. An audible buzz and a metallic snap preceded Panzer turning the doorknob.
The tall, distinguished man stepped forward. “Hello David.”
From the sneering face of Javier Perez came a chilling question, “Is it really you, or do I get to kill you again?”
“No son, it is I.”
“Well look at me and you’ll see that your son is not who you think he is.”
Thoughtfully Panzer replied, “You seem upset.”
“Oh yeah. You must’ve been reading self-help pamphlets. You’re going to engage my emotions? You want to help me with the rage that
boils inside when I see hundreds of people killed in my name? You want a piece of that?” Diegert stood toe to toe with his father, an angry snarl scrawled across the face of Javier Perez. Diegert’s body vibrated as he held himself back from attacking.
Panzer stepped back as he said, “There is a plan and an outcome that is within our grasp. The loss of life is regrettable and the explosion was disproportionate to our plan.”
“Fucking Blevinsky overdid it. I don’t know why you even keep that guy around. He’s a dangerous idiot.”
“Nevertheless.” Panzer raised a silencing hand. “The visual death of David Diegert has given us a chance to create a new identity and life for you. Avery can explain.”
Avery stood up, eyes rapidly blinking, “The plan is to introduce you as the son of Klaus Panzer. We have manufactured an identity with a backstory explaining where you’ve been all your life. Who your mother was, what happened to her and what you will bring to the Board of Crepusculous.”
“I’ll be on the board?” asked Diegert with surprise.
“Yes,” said Avery.
Panzer nodded. “Each board member gets to identify an heir. That person participates in the operation of Crepusculous and Omnisphere pursuant to their skills and abilities.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
A prideful Panzer said, “I have made you a financier. You are a graduate of the Faculty of Commerce at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, Canada.”
“I don’t know anything about finance.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll coach you.”
“Am I Canadian?”
“Yes,” said Panzer. “Your mother was Icelandic. She lived in British Columbia working as a flight attendant for Air Canada. She and I met on a business trip and you were subsequently born. She refused to leave Canada where she completed medical school and practiced as a physician for twenty years. She recently died from an antibiotic resistant bacterial infection she encountered while treating patients on a medical mission in Paraguay. In her will she revealed that I am your father and so now you are joining me in Europe to take your place on the Board of Crepusculous.”
“What was my mom’s name?”
“Ayla,” replied Panzer.
“Just like that, I get to direct the world’s most powerful company?”
“Well,” said Panzer, “It’s more like an apprenticeship. You will be guided and instructed while being tested to make certain you possess the fortitude, perspective and determination necessary to fulfill the role of a Crepusculous board member.” Stepping closer and leaning forward, Panzer said, “Your place on the board will not be simply handed to you, it must be earned.”
Diegert held the icy glare of his father’s pale blue eyes. Panzer pulled back. “We’ve got to get you a new face.”
“Good. I hate Javier.”
Avery said, “You can’t go back to David Diegert.”
The blunt pronouncement set a bleak look upon Javier’s face as Diegert realized his worldwide media death meant his face could never again be the one with which he grew up.
Avery could see the struggle. “We’ve been working on this for you.” With a remote, Avery illuminated a widescreen TV as he typed on a keyboard. The screen appeared but there were no images. Avery said, “There are certain parameters we had to take into account in the creation of a new face.”
“Like what?” asked Diegert.
“Age and hereditary factors. The face had to be an original; we do not want you to be a double, like you were on your mission and like you are right now. We had to invent a unique face that was unidentifiable through the world’s most powerful facial recognition software. The face had to look real while being created digitally. It also had to be fully functional. The 3D rendering process had to be to the exact specifications we required and the face had to be able to express the full range of human emotions.”
Avery stepped in front of the screen facing Diegert and Panzer, who stood a step back, beaming with anticipation. “This face has been researched for authenticity, tested with emotional simulations, digitally remastered for clarity and it is an absolute original.”
“All right, bring it on the screen already,” groaned Diegert.
The image did a slow resolve, appearing gradually, yet striking Diegert with a sense of shocked amazement as he looked at a picture of what he believed to be a young Klaus Panzer.
Diegert looked from the screen to an anxious Avery Forsythe and back to the screen.
The face was no doubt handsome, with ice blue eyes, chestnut-blond hair, a strong straight nose and high cheekbones. The square jaw tapered into a dimpled chin. The lips were even, with subtle curves and a gentle infundibulum reaching up to meet the nostrils. Ears were well formed, with a tight fit to the head and just the right amount of protrusion.
Fully aware that Panzer was standing right behind him, Diegert asked, “Is this a picture of Klaus when he was twenty five years old?”
Avery replied, “This image includes features of Klaus Panzer that are likely to be passed to his offspring if he were to have had a child with this woman.”
The screen switched to reveal an attractive young woman of Scandinavian heritage. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, nice cheekbones along with full lips and a straight but delicate looking nose. Diegert thought she was hot, until Avery said, “This is your mother. We mixed her facial features with your father’s to create a mash up which was rendered into the face you just saw. So, now your new face is not simply your father’s. The face includes components of hereditary expression that would likely be represented when mixed with the features of your digital mother.”
Diegert lifted his left hand to his bowed head, scratching his forehead before running his fingers through Javier Perez’s thick hair.
Avery continued, “I want to point out that we were able to give your face a great deal of symmetry. Digital mastering gives us the ability to even out facial proportions, so the two sides of the face are even, and almost identical. Symmetry creates a greater level of attractiveness to the human face.”
With a sarcastic tone Diegert said, “A perfectly handsome man. Conjured up out of digital magic to replace the person I really am.”
Panzer could hold back no longer. “David, with this face and the rest of the plan, you will be my son and I will proclaim you as the heir to my fortune.”
“You will proclaim me, but only if I wear this face?”
“The face is your portal to freedom and a new life with limitless possibilities,” extolled Panzer. “Please choose success and become the man everyone wishes they could be.”
Avery interjected, “From a practical point of view, you can’t stay in Javier’s face and every other face in the world is already taken. This is your new face.”
Diegert swung his head from one man to the other and back to the screen.
“The image is already 3D rendered,” said Avery. “We can activate your nanocytes and begin the transamination immediately. The process will take about twenty minutes and then you’ll appear as Vince Kronig.”
“My new name is Vince Kronig?”
Avery clarified, “Your mother’s name was Ayla Kronig, so you have her last name. Vincent is a powerful name and you have gone your whole life by the name Vince. Some of this history you will have to learn, but some of it will be embedded in your brain through the actions of the nanocytes. It’ll make it easier for you to function with basic identity information already implanted in your brain.”
“That sounds like digital brainwashing.”
Panzer blurted out, “We are nowhere near that sophisticated at this point. What Avery is saying is that the nanocytes can help you with instant recognition of your new name so you don’t have to remember it every time someone calls you Vince.”
“I will remember who I really am though?” asked Diegert.
“Yes,” replied Avery.
Diegert’s sense of doubt played across his face.
“Yes.” Repeate
d both men with an absolute sense of assurance.
“I want to change a couple of things on the face.”
Avery looked at him with halted disbelief. “What do you want to change?”
“I want that ridiculous dimple in the chin gone, and I want a mole somewhere on the right cheek. I do not want an absolutely perfect face. Stick a mole on the right side.”
Avery got to work on the computer making adjustments to the facial image.
Diegert asked Panzer, “What about my real mother, what does she know?”
“She’s seen the video on the media.”
“So she thinks I’m dead and that I died a terrorist.”
Panzer nodded.
“Is she still getting the cancer care you promised?”
“Yes she is, but you can’t see her if this plan is going to work,” declared Panzer. “Don’t worry about her. We will take care of her for the rest of her life.”
Diegert flexed his first two fingers in rapid succession drawing Panzer closer. He grabbed the front of Panzer’s shirt and tie pulling him close. “You had better take care of her or I’ll kill you!” Diegert flung his father away while maintaining direct eye contact as Panzer rebalanced himself and straightened his shirt and tie.
Avery returned, unaware of the altercation. “Okay, look at the new image.” On the screen was the face of Vince Kronig, without the chin dimple and sporting a dark mole halfway between the cheek and jaw on the right side. “Do you approve?”
Diegert looked over the image the way some people inspect a written assignment before handing it in, seeking to make sure everything’s right. He wanted to be sure about something over which there would be no certainty.
Avery, with his hands on the keyboard, said, “Ready to commence transamination upon your direction.”
Diegert let out a long slow sigh, “Let’s get this done.”
In spite of the fact that each human face is unique and distinct, the actual differences between two faces are nuances of appearance that our eyes are trained to detect. Analytically the differences are minor but within that subtlety is the key to physical identity. The nanocytes produced changes to Diegert’s face adjusting the nostrils, edges of the lips and the shape of the eyelids and eyebrows, creating a face that would be his new image of identity to the world.
