by Thomas Shaw
“Way to go, Donny. You did some serious ass kicking,” one of the technicians shouted.
But SAM had other ideas. She directed Donny directly to the sensory deprivation chamber and instructed him to climb in. The party was over.
Three members of the technical team were already removing the hard drives from the backpack and connecting them to one of SAM’s quantum computer arrays. Within minutes she had cracked the encryption codes that secured the data on the drives. The information necessary to rebuild the nuclear fusion generators was being sent to a special team of scientists at MIT. The software requirements were sent to the Lawrence Livermore labs. Within weeks they would have a working model of the anti-matter fusion generator that would change the energy needs of the World from this moment forward. While on one hand SAM was saving the world from the energy crisis, she was also in the process of debriefing Donny to the point that he would have no memory of the past events.
As Dr. Merrill and Dr. Goodman watched the debriefing process, SAM suddenly stopped and asked, “Do you want me to remove all of the Code-5 subroutines?”
“Of course,” Don responded immediately. “The sooner Mr. Peterson is back to his original personality and life, the better.”
“Wait a minute,” Dr. Merrill snapped. “Let’s talk about the implications of doing that.”
“What do you mean, implications… we’re screwing around with this guy’s life; there’s nothing to talk about accept putting him back like we found him,” Dr. Goodman’s voice was rising with each word.
“Look Don, I know you are coming at this from a moral aspect and you have a good point. What I’m asking, is that we just talk about it in a reasonable manner. Here’s my point; we have spent millions of dollars to get this project to where it is today. It has been successful beyond our wildest dreams and literally pulled the entire World back from a disaster of Biblical proportions. What I’m suggesting is that the new talents we’ve given this guy could very easily give him a better life than he would have ever known.”
“His name is Jim, for Christ’s sake… and how can you even suggest that YOU have the right to decide what would be best for him,” Dr. Goodman said with disgust.
“OK… let’s take another approach,” Ed said, not giving up the debate. “What if we get another call, from who knows where and we need to save the World again. This guy… uh, Jim, may be the perfect match and we would be working with a known commodity. Certainly, of all people, you can see how that would increase our odds of success. Look, all I’m asking is that we leave the Code-5 subroutines in hibernation and let Jim enjoy a new life as a successful heavy equipment salesman living in luxury on the West coast,” Dr. Merrill’s comments were like a good trial lawyer giving his closing argument.
“The least we can do is give him the safe house in San Clemente as a gift for what we have put him through.” Ed quickly added.
“I still think…”
Dr. Merrill held up his hand and stopped Don in mid-sentence. “Let’s take me out of this equation. Let’s ask our team what they think. Now it’s more like a democratic process, wouldn’t you agree?” Dr. Merrill said with finality.
“I think you are completely out of touch with reality but I am curious as to how the team would react to this decision,” Don responded, making a huge concession.
Ten minutes later the entire group of technicians had gathered around the sensory deprivation chamber like they were attending a burial.
Dr. Merrill presented both sides of the argument, which took a full ten minutes. He explained in detail how the debriefing would work.
“Any question?” Ed finally concluded.
There was silence for several long minutes…
Then one of the technicians held up his hand, “Will he still have a single digit handicap?”
That was all it took… the whole group broke out in uncontrolled laughter. The vote was ten in favor of the new life and 1 opposed.
“We’re doing the wrong thing, boys,” Don said, shaking his head.
One of the technicians slapped Don on the back and said, “I hope they pick me for the next mission. I would gladly change places with Jim Peterson any day of the week.”
The decision was made; Jim Peterson was to be returned to his “original life” with the one caveat of being a successful heavy equipment salesman living in a new house on the coast and of course having a 4 handicap. SAM would be responsible for his sales success.
The mission had been over for five days when the debriefing was completed and Jim was deemed to be “normal” with the exception of the implant and a couple of Code-5 subroutines. By 10 o’clock on Friday morning he was on his way back to California. During the direct flight back to the west coast, Dr. Merrill was busy instructing the FBI agents on their role as to how Jim Peterson was to be reintroduced into society. They were to keep a watchful eye on his activities but were also instructed to keep out of sight.
Everything went smoothly until about three hours into the flight when SAM made a silent interruption onto Dr. Merrill’s private terminal, as instructed.
The special tone, from his monitor, caught Ed’s attention immediately.
The instant message flashed across his screen.
Jim Peterson is making an unauthorized phone call… he is dialing the number to the “The Wild Hair”…
Would you like for me to intervene?
Dr. Merrill quickly looked around his area.
“Where is Goodman?” Ed asked, speaking in a low voice.
“He is in the mess hall having a snack,” came the response.
“Monitor the call and let me know immediately the content of the conversation. Use my secure IM communication link only,” Ed whispered.
Fifteen seconds later, Ed’s screen was receiving data.
Jim is talking to Debbie Taylor… he is asking her to meet him for a drink this evening at the Cliff House restaurant. She just responded in French and Jim cannot understand what she is saying. Jim claims to have a bad connection but the decision has been made to meet at “his house” and they will go from there.
The meeting is set for 7:30 tonight.
Jim just hung up.
“What the hell is he talking to her for? I thought the debriefing erased all that,” Ed whispered to SAM.
“We had this same issue in Mexico but are not sure why these memories crossed over,” SAM explained. “Dr. Goodman has finished his snack and may be heading to your office,” SAM added without being asked.
“SAM, I want you to reinstate all Code-5 subroutines immediately. I want this Debbie person to recognize him as the Donny Briscoe aka Jim Peterson guy, just like the day she met him. We’ll straighten this thing out when we have more time,” Dr. Merrill whispered urgently.
“Don’t tell anyone what we’ve done… is that clear?” Dr. Merrill’s stress was apparent as Dr. Goodman entered Ed’s office.
“What’s going on… is there a problem?” Don said, picking up on the tension.
“I just got a call from my daughter; you know the one going to the University of Miami. She’s asking for more money and I guess it just set me off,” Ed said, standing up. “Why don’t you buy me a drink and we can celebrate our efforts.”
“Sure.” Don said, surprised at his congenial manner.
24
Irvine, California…
The Gulfstream landed and taxied straight to the open doors of the hangar they had used twice before. The hangar was empty except for Jim Peterson’s Nissan. It was washed, waxed and just had a complete tune-up.
Jim Peterson stepped out of the plane looking very much like Donny Briscoe to the surprise of everyone there to meet him.
“It is Jim… Jim Peterson, isn’t it?” The stunned FBI agent said.
“At your service,” Jim said, holding out his hand.
“Which one is he?” whispered one of the FBI agents to the pilot.
“I’m not sure… we started out with the original one and landed with th
is one,” the pilot muttered.
“Well you are free to go… as they say,” the FBI agent said, fumbling over his words.
Jim thanked each person in the hangar for all their help, walked over to his car and drove off, leaving behind a group of stunned people who were anxiously making calls from their cell phones.
Dr. Merrill had blocked all phone calls coming into the “Ice Plant” but he forgot about some of the technicians who were still at their work stations.
“Dr. Merrill… could I speak to you for a minute,” said one of the technicians from the door of the mess hall.
Ed excused himself and left Don sitting at the table and walked out of the room.
“We’re seeing the strangest things,” the technician said. “Let me show you what we are picking up on my monitor.”
Ed looked around to see how much attention they were drawing from the rest of the group. So far it didn’t seem like much.
“I’ve been monitoring his vital signs which is a normal function after the debriefing but look at this… about five minutes ago something activated the Code-5 diagnostics program. I thought most of the subroutines were in hibernation?” the technician said with true concern. “Do you think we could have another software glitch?”
I don’t think so,” Ed said with sincerity. “Keep monitoring the vitals and I’ll check with SAM and let you know what I find out.”
Dr. Merrill walked quickly to his office and locked the door behind him, something he never did. “SAM, block off all monitoring except for the vitals on workstation #4. I don’t want anyone to know that we have reinstated all the Code-5 subroutines,” Ed whispered urgently.
A trickle of sweat began to run down his back.
San Clemente, California…
Jim pulled into his new home as some of the memories gave him the feeling of déjà vu as he walked through the house. The cupboards were stocked with fresh groceries and the refrigerator full to capacity. The Jacuzzi was bubbling away as he pressed the remote on a new 52 inch Plasma TV. Life was good, but Jim Peterson was looking forward to his meeting with Debbie more than anything else. Tonight could be the most important moment in his life. He hoped beyond hope that the feelings he had for Debbie would be returned by her.
He double checked the refrigerator then rechecked his watch. It was 7:15, the last time he had looked at his watch it was 7:14.
Jim decided to have a cocktail and wait on the patio. The sun was just starting to sink behind the ocean haze and the temperature was perfect. He relaxed in the overstuffed lounge chair and looked out at the ocean.
Quantico, Virginia…
“We’ve got an elevated heart beat,” the technician said to no one in particular.
“Something wrong,” said the technician sitting next to him. “I’m not getting any sound.”
“Call SAM and have her check the circuits. I haven’t had any new feed in over twenty minutes,” said another technician.
One of the technicians knocked at Dr. Merrill’s office. “I think we have a remote connection problem,” the technician said through the door, “and SAM is not responding.”
“I’ll be right with you,” came Ed’s voice.
San Clemente, California…
The doorbell chimed… ding, dong.
Jim jumped up from the lounge chair, his heart was pounding; it was Showtime. As he walked into the kitchen he yelled across the open space to the front door. “Come on in… the door is unlocked.”
Debbie walked through the door and his heart skipped a beat. She looked absolutely beautiful.
“I’m a little late,” she said apologetically. “The traffic is terrible; I’m so glad you’re home,” she said. “I couldn’t help but think about all the horrible things that might happen to you in a foreign country” then added, “I like your haircut, it makes you look younger.”
Jim stopped at the refrigerator. “Can I make you a cocktail? I’m having one… then we could sit out on the patio, it’s a beautiful evening,” Jim said, as he searched for words. SAM was not there to help.
“Sure… I’ll have a diet 7up with Bourbon.”
Quantico, Virginia…
“What’s wrong with the remote connection?” Don demanded.
A group of technicians were crowded around one of the workstations Ed was sitting at.
“SAM reactivated the remote access software,” Ed said, with apprehension.
“What do you mean… reactivate, didn’t you turn it off?” demanded Don.
Just then they heard… “Sure… I’ll have a diet 7up with Bourbon.”
San Clemente, California…
Debbie walked over to Jim with an aura that seemed to glow with a pastel blue color. “You look beautiful,” Jim finally said. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week.”
In that moment they knew the bond between them was real. Jim turned as Debbie slid into his arms and they kissed passionately.
Quantico, Virginia…
“I can’t believe it,” one of the technicians said. “This guy hasn’t been in California for five hours and already has some hottee jumping his bones. I mean has this guy won the lottery or what?”
“I would trade places with Jim in a heartbeat if I could,” chimed in another technician.
“Maybe I can volunteer if another mission impossible comes up,” said another.
“What the hell is going on?” demanded Dr. Goodman
Then they heard it…
San Clemente, California…
Jim and Debbie embraced for a full two minutes; tears were streaming down her face. “I’ve haven’t felt like this with anyone… I never believed it would happen to me,” Debbie said, as she buried her face in his chest.
They didn’t hear the door open as Debbie’s ex-roommate silently pushed his way into the room. The rejection he had received from Debbie over the past several days had pushed him over the brink. She had demanded that he move out of the house and said that their relationship was over. He knew in his heart there was another man, but he had no idea who it was until tonight. For the past three days he had been stalking her every move and tonight he had followed her to this house in a posh section of San Clemente. It was too much. He was sobbing softly when Jim and Debbie finally realized there was someone else in the room.
Debbie turned first. “Mike, what are you doing here?” she shouted angrily. “You need to leave immediately! We’ll talk about this later.”
Mike was slouched over with his head down, his arms hanging at his sides. With his left hand he reached over and pulled the brown paper bag off his other hand, exposing the nickel plated 357 Smith & Wesson.
Debbie’s eyes widened in fear as she instinctively spun around putting her back against Jim’s chest.
Without seeming to take aim. Mike jerked his arm up and fired the weapon. The magnum caliber bullet easily passed through Debbie’s chest, piercing her heart and then passed through Jim just under the lungs taking a large piece of his liver with it.
The impact was so forceful it knocked both of them off their feet, causing them to land on their backs on the tile floor.
Quantico, Virginia…
“What was that noise,” shouted one technician.
“Who in the Hell is Mike?” shouted another.
Then they heard from the technician on workstation #4, “Houston, we got a problem.”
Jim’s vitals were showing massive blood loss and his heart was rapidity getting weaker.
“Wait a minute… I think he is trying to say something,” Don intervened.
“I can’t make it out but I think it’s in French… now it’s in German… now it sounds like Spanish.” Then the tone came indicating a flat line on his heart rate.
Just as everything was going silent they heard another loud bang, like a car backfiring.
Then all was silent.
“Get our agents in there immediately and clean it up,” ordered Dr. Merrill. He turned to the rest of his team and with f
ire in his eyes he said, “I’m only going to say this one time and it better stick… This project – Code-5 – never happened, this Jim Peterson guy never existed… do you understand what I’m saying?”
****
The aging steel door ground noisily on its rusty track as Dr. Goodman pushed his weight against the oversized handle. With the door opened a few inches he could see the dimly lit parking lot, forty yards away. The spring shower that had begun a few hours earlier had turned into a torrential downpour. Goodman stood silently staring at the empty parking lot though his gaze was not focused on anything. His thoughts had wondered back to California two weeks earlier when he received that first phone call… a lightning flash lit up the night, it was so close he could smell the ozone; it also snapped his attention back to the moment at hand. He quickly looked at his watch… eleven o’clock straight up. If the cab didn’t show up soon he would miss his flight and Don was anxious to leave.
The lights of the cab were just becoming visible through the driving rain. Using both hands… Dr. Goodman put his weight against the door once again. The door screeched and complained from years of abuse. This aging ice plant had been his home for the last couple of weeks, but he felt no remorse in leaving. The rain was blowing through the opened space in sheets. Pulling his hat low and the collar on his London Fog up as tight as he could, Don grabbed his travel kit and laptop as he stepped through the door. The wind and rain whipped at his face as he thought for a second about closing the door. “Screw it”… he thought, I don’t owe this place anything. Taking steps like a kid playing in a mud puddle, Don splashed his way to the waiting cab. Throwing his gear ahead of him, he slid into the back seat, slamming the door behind him.
