In the Grey

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  “Not to me,” the Mister said. Heads shook around the back of the room.

  “It’s important to note that the majority of the people involved in this program volunteered,” Ben said.

  “I volunteered,” Joseph said.

  “So did Wyatt,” Alex said.

  “If everyone volunteered of their own free will, who was he protecting?” Ben shrugged. “The feeling now is that Mr. Helm was covering up the side project, what you’re calling ‘the girls.’”

  “Any secret project that goes on for more than twenty years is bound to have a tick on its underbelly,” Alex’s father, and retired Senator, General Patrick Hargreaves, said from the doorway.

  The men in the back of the room popped to their feet. Patrick raised an eyebrow and moved toward the front of the room.

  “Certainly, torturing children so that they could become operatives to do your intelligence work, and using their sexual abuse to blackmail world leaders, would suck the life out of any decent human being,”

  Patrick nodded his team at ease and one of the men followed her father to the front of the room.

  “Thank you for coming,” Patrick said to his team.

  “Sir,” Ben said. “Would you . . . ?”

  Patrick gave the man from the back a warm greeting and Alex realized he was his father’s administrative sergeant when they lived at Fort Bragg. As if he could hear Alex’s thoughts, the man nodded at her.

  “Did you mention Sirhan Sirhan?” Patrick asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Ben said.

  “We just don’t know,” Patrick said. “MK-Ultra; MK-Search; Monarch mind control . . . There is no way for us to know the scope of the programs and what was really done.”

  “I thought they found a box with twenty thousand records in it?” MJ asked. “Those were the names – MK-Ultra from 1953 to1964 and MK-Search from 1964 to 1973. It’s all over YouTube.”

  “You didn’t tell them?” Ben asked Alex.

  “He and Colin had to get recertified. He was on medical leave with Honey after that; then he got married and . . . ,” Alex said.

  “What did I miss?” MJ asked.

  “The first part of 1976 was not great time for me,” Patrick said.

  “Sir, there’s no reason to take responsibility. It was . . . ,” his administrative sergeant said.

  “This is Sergeant Dick Mead,” Patrick introduced the man to the group. “He was my Sergeant Dusty when I was stationed at Fort Bragg.”

  Patrick gave Sergeant Mead a fond look.

  “My fault or no, in the middle of a difficult time in my life, a few boxes appeared in a storage room in a financial building outside of Bethesda,” Patrick said. “I simply did not have time to look at them. Dick didn’t have the clearance to even open the boxes. We didn’t know Ben at that time. I was the only one who could look at them and I didn’t have time. So they sat . . .”

  “Sir, you did nothing wrong,” Sergeant Mead said.

  “At the very least, it should have occurred to me that an old spy like Richard Helm would never lose a box,” Patrick said. “But I had a full plate and every day some twit at the agency asked if I would release the boxes. They kept just enough pressure on me to make sure the boxes were on my mind while being damned certain I had no time to look at them. Finally, I just released them in a ‘kiss my ass’ kind of way.”

  “I believe you actually said that,” Sergeant Mead smiled.

  “I’m sure I did,” Patrick nodded. “I should have looked inside.”

  “Sir, are you’re saying that twenty thousand documents were falsified?” Joseph asked. “We’ve used them to . . .”

  “Not everything,” Patrick said. “There was just enough factual information to make the lies look real. Carefully played misinformation. The agency created a few boxes of files with the information they thought people wanted to know. They added in the specific details they’d programmed into subjects. They ran it through my office at Fort Bragg. With my stamp of approval, the boxes look all the more legitimate.”

  “But why would they bother?” Leena’s voice reflected her disbelief.

  Ben gave Leena an unblinking stare. She blushed.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Leena said. “I meant no disrespect. I forgot myself.”

  “At ease, Petty Officer,” Patrick said. “You’re asking the million-dollar question. Why go to the trouble? Why not just leave it at ‘The program documents were destroyed on Helm’s order’?”

  “She’s asking what you think,” Alex said.

  Colin’s phone buzzed. He gestured to it, and Alex nodded that he could pick it up. He got up and left the room.

  “Why do I think they created the files?” Patrick asked. “A lot of people remembered the program. The best way to hide a sick secret is to tell a big sordid story with lots of factual details. By telling the MK-Ultra and MK-Search story, they effectively hid the darker, more embarrassing projects, as well as their ongoing work.”

  “It’s great intelligence,” Ben said.

  “With a horrible human cost,” Alex said.

  “What are we looking at?” Patrick asked.

  “At the most basic level, it looks like Eniac has activated the mind control subjects,” Alex said. “I assume he’s planning to release that to the press.”

  “And you?” Patrick asked.

  “I received a phone call this morning with an assignment,” Alex said.

  “Patrick Hargreaves,” Mammy said. “You let your own child get involved . . .”

  “I put her name on the list when she was recruited out of SF training,” Ben said. “I thought it would let us know if they were called up.”

  “Wyatt Klaussen participated in experiments while at West Point, and then again when he was in graduate school,” Alex said. “He was assigned to kill the General.”

  “And you?” Patrick asked.

  “I was assigned to kill him when he killed you,” Alex said.

  “And Major Walters?” Patrick asked.

  “He was activated, but told to hold,” Alex said.

  “The Irish?” Patrick asked.

  “One of the things we learned from this research is that the mind control can be passed from one generation to the next,” Alex said for the benefit of her father’s team.

  “I thought the ESP studies focused on generations,” Zack said. “Grandmothers, mothers, daughters. Didn’t they use electric shock as a way of increasing psychic phenomena?”

  “Sure,” Alex said. “Certainly torturing a grandmother, her daughter, and her granddaughter is a way to pass the trauma through families. But what we’ve discovered lately is that trauma can be passed epigenetically between generations. We know that Ronan Kelly and other Irish Republicans received LSD, electric shock, water torture, and other treatments in Maze. Because they are available, we’re monitoring Ronan Kelly’s children to see if they are affected. If they are, we’ll need to find and follow up with the others.”

  “How is that possible?” one of her father’s team asked.

  “We’re not sure,” Alex said. “Current theory is that trauma sets up a biochemical environment which modifies DNA without changing the sequence. The modified DNA is passed from father to son, mother to her children. The VA is currently studying Vietnam Veterans’ children.”

  “Iraq War vets too,” Vince said.

  “What’s it called?” MI-5 agent Sean Hudson’s voice came from the phone.

  “Ancestor syndrome, epigenetics, among other things,” Alex said. “Lucky for us, Eniac doesn’t keep up with current research at the VA. He didn’t call Ronan Kelly’s children, so we can assume he didn’t call the others.”

  “Or he hasn’t called so far,” Ben said. “But will.”

  “We should take our wins where we can and assume this is good news,” Patrick said. “Is there anything else anyone wants or needs to know?”

  No one said anything.

  “You are released to continue to track the individuals you haven’t
yet contacted,” Patrick said.

  “Sir?” Margaret raised her hand.

  “Yes Sergeant,” Patrick said.

  “I wonder . . . if they told this MK-Ultra or whatever story to cover over what they were actually doing, what if they’re doing that right now?” Margaret asked. “We’re going to spend the next week or more tracking down everyone involved. Even with the help of your team and our support staff, we’re not going to see our families this week.”

  “It’s a lot of work,” Patrick said.

  “You’re exactly right, Sergeant,” Ben said. “What’s going on while we’re distracted with this?”

  “I think she’s asking about what are ‘we’ . . .” Alex gestured to her team. “Not watching?”

  Ben and Patrick turned to look at Alex. The silence dragged.

  “Don’t make the child say it, you old fools,” Mammy said. “They are the active intelligence team. No one knows our little group exists, and if they even think of us, they know we’re retired. Didn’t you tell everyone you were going to sleep for a year when you retired, Patrick?”

  Ben and Patrick gave each other a sly smile.

  “She’s right,” Ben said.

  “Of course, I’m right,” Mammy said.

  “My team will take over tracking the participants,” Patrick said.

  “Could we do it as a joint effort?” Matthew asked. “I know Margaret and Leena would like to continue following up with the girls. Margaret has a number of connections in the Native American community. Joseph, Colin, and MJ have special knowledge that can help. The rest of our team can work through what we’re supposed to miss.”

  “Good thinking,” Patrick said. “What are we calling this project?”

  “Solarus, sir,” Joseph said.

  “Shining light on a lot of dark places,” Patrick said. “Good thinking.”

  “Hey Dad? Alex? You got a second?” Colin said as he came into the room.

  Alex and Patrick stepped away from everyone. Ben shifted over so he could hear what was going on. Colin came to the front of the room.

  “I just got the weirdest call,” Colin said. “It was Mom. I took the call because she’s watching Paddie today. And . . .”

  Colin looked at Alex and blushed.

  “What?” Alex asked.

  “Mom said that she just got an email from Steve. I guess he’s off getting married in Aruba. He wanted to invite everyone, but ‘Alex never got over him dumping her.’ That’s a direct quote. Mom says Steve was Alex’s first lover and . . .”

  Alex felt the blood drain from her face. Patrick and Ben noticeably paled.

  “What’s happened?” Joseph asked.

  “Steve Pershing’s been taken,” Ben said.

  F

  CHAPTER THREE

  Friday afternoon

  November 5 – 3:47 p.m. MDT

  Buckley Air Force Base, Aurora, Colorado

  “One more,” Alex said to Leena.

  They were in the martial-arts gym working out. About a year ago, Steve Pershing had encouraged Alex to share her knowledge of mixed martial arts and get her team members to share theirs. Every day at three-thirty, the team met to work out. Over the course of the year, they had each had at least a month of training in each other’s specialty.

  Raz was boxing with Royce on the other side of the gym. In the middle, Colin was teaching Zack and his co-pilot, Sergeant Clifford Mauer, Krav Maga. Troy and Trece were locked in a sweaty battle of Vacón, a Peruvian hybrid-martial art. White Boy was schooling MJ in Eskrima, a martial art from the Philippines, which White Boy had learned from his step-father. Near the mirrored wall, Dusty was working through a complicated stretching program he’d learned from Leena. Matthew and Margaret were locked in a Brazilian jujitsu hold next to where Vince and Joseph were working through wushu forms. They were hot, sweaty, and having a good time.

  Alex was helping Leena with her kickboxing form.

  “Hop, spin, knee up, that’s right, kick, kick. Harder,” Alex said. “Good. You’ve been practicing.”

  “But?” Leena’s head was wet with sweat.

  “I’d like you to practice your kicks in three separate motions,” Alex said. “Rather than one fluid motion. They teach one fluid motion in a lot of classes, but real power comes when you learn to control all three movements.”

  She lifted her right knee to the side and then straightened her leg.

  “The knee raise gives you power, and your calf gives you speed. If you can control your foot, you control your strength,” Alex said.

  She spun in place and did a fast three-movement kick at the person coming up behind her. Patrick blocked her kick with his forearm. He took a quick side step which diffused the energy of her kick.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Alex said.

  “Nice kick,” Patrick nodded a greeting to Leena. “Try it in pieces.”

  Much to Alex’s amusement, Patrick lifted his knee and threw a perfect kick. Alex clapped.

  “You have to practice in three pieces before you learn to do it as a fluid movement,” Patrick said. “It seems like a pain in the rear, but it’s worth the trouble when you need it. Alex?”

  Alex spun in place, lifted her leg with it folded at the knee, and then kicked her foot forward. Her pointed foot stopped less than a half inch in front of him.

  “You need that kind of precision,” Patrick said.

  “You never know what someone’s going to throw at you,” Alex said while she held the kick. “I’ve thrown a kick and had my opponent pull a knife or a bayonet. The momentum of my leg would have cut off my foot. I have to be able to stop mid-motion.”

  “Go ahead,” Patrick said.

  Alex slapped him with her foot. The force of the shot knocked him to the side.

  “That’s why this kick is so powerful,” Patrick smiled. “Why don’t you try it while I talk to your LC?”

  “Yes, sir,” Leena said.

  “Dusty?” Alex waved for Dusty to come over and practice with Leena. Dusty jogged over.

  Patrick took her arm and led her to the side of the room.

  “Any news on Steve?” Alex asked.

  “Nothing,” Patrick said. “If we hadn’t set up those automatic emails we’d never have known.”

  “But you’ve got guys tracing his last actions?” Alex asked.

  “He’s not stateside,” Patrick said. “Or wasn’t as of a week or so ago.”

  “Put Tom Drayson on it,” Alex said. “He’s the British Ben.”

  “Already done,” Patrick said. “Great minds.”

  Patrick’s eyes reviewed the action in the room. He nodded toward Trece and Troy.

  “Vacón?”

  “Troy took formal training when he was stationed in Peru,” Alex said. “Trece learned it in prison as a kid. It’s interesting to see the differences between what’s taught in a dojo and what happens on the street.”

  Patrick nodded. Alex glanced at him and then into the room.

  “I have a duty to my team to share my knowledge and skill, sir,” Alex said. “You’re welcome to stay and watch, assist, or even train, but if you’re to observe, I should get back.”

  “You were going to come up with ‘better questions,’” Patrick’s eyes reviewed Alex’s face. “You’ll remember you didn’t like the questions we were asking. They were too . . .”

  “Cold War,” Alex said. “I don’t really give a shit about the who’s and why’s of some random historic program. They use what they learned from those programs in S.E.R.E. now.”

  “And in ‘advanced interrogation methods’,” Patrick said. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “I know you are,” Alex said.

  “Did you come up with better questions?”

  Alex glanced at him to see if he was angry. He seemed amused. Patrick raised his eyebrows in challenge.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “We had ten questions before we started our workout,” Alex said. “Our protocol is to wait to see if anything comes
up during workout.”

  Patrick nodded.

  “The General would like to know your questions,” Alex said to the team. “Just shout them out.”

  “Why does this action seem to happen in the fall?” Raz yelled and punched at Royce. “We’ve thought it was the Fey’s birthday or intended to trigger her PTSD. As the years pass, and we continue to have an action in the fall, we’re wondering if there’s another reason for that.”

  “You’re right,” Patrick nodded. “That’s a better question.”

  “Why take Steve Pershing?” Matthew asked. “Sure, he’s the head of a black ops unit, but with the mind controls activated, it seems more personal.”

  “If it’s personal, why not take one of us?” Margaret asked. She grunted and flipped Matthew onto his back. “Or you, sir?”

  “You think Steve was taken because of something he was working on or involved with,” Patrick said.

  “We don’t know,” Alex said. “We’re just asking questions.”

  “Most obvious question: Does he expect any of the mind control subjects to fulfill their mission?” Joseph asked.

  “From those we’ve talked to so far, it seems unlikely,” Patrick said. “As you noted, it’s been too long since induction.”

  “But what if there’s one or two?” Joseph asked. Vince pointed, and Joseph stepped into the next form.

  “In the middle of the thousands, one or two of these guys fulfill the mission objective?” Patrick nodded.

  “Look at the damage and chaos Kaczynski caused. If his brother hadn’t turned him in, he’d still be out there,” Alex said. “A man with a plan, and the wherewithal to pull it off, can inflict a lot of pain.”

  “What’s your assessment?” Patrick asked.

  “Just questions, sir,” Alex said.