“In our treatment, the Eraser basically knocks down that wall, but each brick is still there. It’s not like a newborn who takes years to learn because each new brick must be manufactured. Our reprogramming simply restacks the bricks that already exist. It’s a much faster process.”
“What happens to the person then?”
“I told you we had a team preparing a reprogramming regimen. That regimen has been completed. We have purchased a church summer camp just an hour’s drive from Kansas City and transformed it into a rehabilitation center. It is staffed and ready for our first patient, and speaking of that, you said something about a possible first patient.”
“Yes, I think I have a perfect candidate for you.”
I told him everything I knew about Warren Prescott.
Skinner clapped his hands. “He sounds perfect. Can you bring him in for an interview?”
“How about this afternoon?”
“Perfect!”
When I last spoke with Warren, I told him that I couldn’t promise anything, but I’d do my best to get him help. He said that most days he would be somewhere in the park where we had met. I found him sitting on a bench, just staring into space.
“Warren, it’s Walt Williams. Can we talk?”
He looked up and the blank stare turned into a smile. “Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“I told you I might find someone who could help you and I did. A man by the name of Dr. Buford Skinner has developed an experimental program that could change your life, but there are some side effects that you should know about.”
“What kind of side effects?”
“Dr. Skinner’s treatment would erase your memory, all of it, but you would never again have to relive the horrible things you experienced in Afghanistan.”
I saw a look of hope in his eyes. “Really? He could do that? Take all the demons away?”
I nodded. “Yes, but you have to understand that not just the bad memories will be gone. All your other memories will be gone as well. When you wake up, you will remember nothing, not even your name.”
I saw that look of hope change to one of confusion. “Then who will I be? What will happen to me then?”
“You will go to a place where you will be given new memories, ones that will help you start a new life.”
He looked around. “Anything is better than what I have now. I’m in.”
“Great! Dr. Skinner wants to meet with you. Oh, yes, one other thing, Dr. Skinner has some quirks.”
“What kind of quirks?”
“He’s what’s known as an autistic savant. He’s a brilliant man, but his autism sometimes causes him to blurt out things that can be offensive. He can’t help it.”
Warren shrugged. “If he can make me right again, I don’t care what he says.”
I was so excited, I took Warren directly to the treatment center. In retrospect, I probably should have taken him to my apartment first, let him shower and give him a clean change of clothes.
“Dr. Skinner, this is Warren Prescott.”
Warren stuck out his hand, but Skinner shrunk back.
“Whew! You’ve certainly brought me a ripe one!”
I grimaced and looked at Warren. He just smiled and winked.
“Sorry about that,” Warren said. “My butler had the day off.”
Skinner roared with laughter. “A sense of humor. I love it! No problem, we have everything you need here. First, though, let’s go into my office. Tell me about Warren Prescott.”
For the next half hour, Warren shared the atrocities he had witnessed on the battlefield and the difficulty he had experienced since returning to the states. “I told Walt I’d do most anything to get well. I guess that’s why I’m here.”
“I can help you, Warren,” Skinner replied, “but you must understand what you’re agreeing to.”
“I do understand. Walt told me I’d lose all my memory --- everything. I don’t care. I just want the horrible visions to go away.”
“Then I think we can proceed.” He handed Warren a three-page form. “Look this over, and if you agree to everything, sign at the bottom. It basically says everything we discussed and that you understand and agree to the ramifications of the treatment.”
Warren read the form, signed, and handed it back to Skinner.
“Splendid! Let’s get you cleaned up and we can get started on the new Warren Prescott.”
“How long will the treatment take?” I asked.
“Not long at all,” Skinner replied. “We’ll put Warren to sleep, then attach the Eraser’s electrodes to his head. Throughout the night, a series of impulses will disrupt the synaptic connections, Sometime tomorrow, Warren will awaken and never again recall the horrors he has seen.
“After we’re sure everything has been erased and that Warren is not experiencing any side effects of the treatment, we’ll send him to our reprogramming facility. He will probably be there at least a month, maybe more.”
“Will I be able to visit him?”
“You could, but he wouldn’t remember who you are.”
At that moment, it struck me just how radical the treatment was. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to wake up and not remember anything about my past life.
I just hoped it would work for Warren.
As soon as I got home, I told Dad, Bernice and Jerry that Warren was receiving treatment for his PTSD. I knew they would want to know. After all, it was Dad who introduced me to him in the first place.
Carl Luther, sitting across the street from the old bank building, dialed his cell phone.
“Mr. Hatfield, this is Carl.”
“Do you have something to report?”
“I do. We’ve been watching the building all week. Contractors have been working on the place 24/7. I think it’s now operational. Today, we spotted the old P.I. bringing in a scruffy young guy. I think it might be their first patient. The P.I. left without the young guy.”
“You are probably right. When Skinner’s treatment is complete, they’ll be transferring the patient to that reprogramming camp. That’s when you’ll make your move. Intercept the vehicle, dispose of the driver, and bring the patient to me. I have to see for myself if the treatment is effective. If so, we’ll have some reprogramming of our own ready to go.”
“Understood. Gomez and I will take care of it.”
CHAPTER 10
Three days after dropping Warren off at the treatment center, I received a call.
“Walt, this is Dr. Skinner. Something terrible has happened.”
My first thought was that something had gone wrong and the Eraser had fried Warren’s brain.
“What? Is Warren okay? Were there problems with the treatment?”
“No, nothing like that. The treatment was everything we hoped it would be. When Warren awakened, his memory had been completely erased, but otherwise, he was just fine.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Warren is missing. After we were certain that there were no complications, I arranged for one of our security staff to drive Warren to the reprogramming facility. He never arrived. Late yesterday, the van was found on a lonely stretch of road. The driver was dead and Warren was gone. You have to help us find him.”
“I’m not sure what I could do. What did the police say?”
“It was the Missouri Highway Patrol that investigated. When I told them that Warren was missing, they said they’d look into it, but I’ve heard nothing. Who could have taken him and why?”
I had an idea who had taken him but I didn’t want to say anything to Skinner until I had some proof.
“Let me do some digging,” I replied. “If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“This is dreadful! Just dreadful!”
After hanging up from Skinner, I called Ox. I had no juice with the Highway Patrol, but they would most likely share their report with another law enforcement agency.
“Ox, Walt here. I need a favor.”
“Name it, partner.”
“Yesterday afternoon, the Highway Patrol found a van with a dead driver. The passenger he was carrying, a Warren Prescott, was missing. I’d like you the contact the Highway Patrol and see what they have, maybe get a report.”
“I’m on it. I’ll call you back when I get something.”
I was dreading the next call.
When the box containing the NESD fell into my hands, four countries, including our own Homeland Security, desperately tried to acquire it. While Warren’s disappearance could have come at the hands of most anyone, I figured the best place to start was with my brother at Homeland Security, Mark Davenport.
“Mark, Walt here.”
“I’m not speaking to you.”
“So, I guess you’ve heard.”
“That you had the damn box all along? Yes, I’ve heard. Just out of curiosity, what did you pitch into the river?”
“A jar of pickles, a can of beets and two pair of socks with holes in the toe. I’m sorry I had to lie to you, but I just couldn’t turn it over to Homeland Security.”
“But you could give it to Buford Skinner?”
“He’s using it to help people with alcoholism, drug addiction and PTSD. Somehow I doubt any of that would have been on Homeland Security’s agenda.”
“So why the phone call?”
“Dr. Skinner just used the device on his first patient and it was a success. They were transporting him to a reprogramming facility when the van was attacked and the driver killed. The patient is missing.”
“And I suppose you’re asking if Homeland Security is involved?”
“Something like that. Three goons from your agency were willing to kill to get it before, and if you remember, they even kidnapped Maggie.”
“Yes, I remember. If it’s any consolation, that was not an authorized operation. Scarborough and his goons were working alone.”
“You haven’t answered my question. Does Homeland Security have Warren Prescott?”
“No, we don’t.”
I thought for a moment. “Do you know about the NESD and what Dr. Skinner is doing with it?”
“Yes, I have been briefed.”
“But how could you possibly know?”
“Walt, we’re Homeland Security. It’s our job to know what’s going on.”
“If you knew Skinner had the device, why haven’t your people just swooped in and taken the thing in the name of national security?”
“It’s complicated. Skinner has the backing of some very wealthy and very influential people with ties to the White House. There was a direct order from the Oval Office not to interfere. They want to see if Skinner’s treatments really work. If they do, it will revolutionize completely, the fields of psychiatry and psychology. Skinner would be a shoo-in for the Nobel Prize.”
“But surely someone in one of the spook agencies can see how the NESD could be used for other things.”
“Of course. A person whose memory has been erased could be reprogrammed for virtually any kind of covert operation. A trained killer with no conscience could be used over and over again, then have his memory erased again and it would be as if the operations had never taken place.”
“Exactly! That’s why I could never turn it over to the government. If not Homeland Security, then what other agency might have snatched Prescott? The CIA, the NSA?”
“Although I don’t know for sure, I would think that every agency had gotten the memo from the White House.”
“Yes, but how do you know there’s not another Scarborough out there operating off the books?”
A long silence. “I don’t.”
Not the answer I wanted to hear.
I had just hung up from Mark when Ox called back.
“The Highway Patrol faxed me a copy of their report. You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me.”
“The driver was killed by a single bullet to the head. Forensics went over the van with a fine-toothed comb. The only prints they found were of the driver and Prescott. There was nothing else that could identify the perps. It was a lonely stretch of road, so of course, no cameras.”
“So they found absolutely nothing to give us a clue who took Warren?”
“I’m afraid not. Sorry, Pal.”
“Thanks for trying.”
I called Dr. Skinner and gave him the bad news.
Warren Prescott was gone and we had no idea where he was or who had taken him.
Lloyd Hatfield looked at the man hooked to the polygraph machine.
“What is your name?”
“Warren Prescott.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dr. Skinner told me.”
“How old are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where were you born?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you in the armed forces?”
“I don’t know.”
Hatfield looked at the polygraph operator. “Well?”
“Based on what I see here, he’s telling the truth. He just plain doesn’t remember.”
Hatfield smiled. “Perfect. Transport him to our reprogramming facility. We’ll give him something new to think about.”
CHAPTER 11
A month had passed without any clues to the disappearance of Warren Prescott.
Dr. Skinner, greatly disappointed at losing his first patient, vowed to press on. He recruited more subjects, erased their memories, and successfully transported them to his reprogramming facility.
While I was happy for his success, I couldn’t stop thinking about Warren, wondering who had taken him and why.
Then one day, out of the blue, I received a call from Dad.
“Son, I’m at the Three Trails and you won’t believe who’s here.”
Dad usually never goes near the place. “What are you doing at the hotel?”
“Mary called Willie and asked him to come over and replace some light bulbs. I drove him over and when I got here, guess who was sitting on the porch swing?”
“No idea.”
“Warren Prescott!”
Now he had my attention. “Did he recognize you?”
“Of course not. His memory had been erased.”
“I’ll be right there.”
On the way over, I racked my brain trying to figure how Warren had landed at my hotel. It couldn’t just be a coincidence --- or could it.
Warren was still sitting on the swing when I arrived.
“Warren, do you know who I am?”
He looked at me quizzically, “No, should I?”
“How about Dr. Skinner? Do you remember him?”
His eyes lit up. “Dr. Skinner! I’ve been trying to find him. I --- I just don’t know how.”
“Warren, do you remember what happened after you left Dr. Skinner. You were on your way to the reprogramming facility.”
He thought for a moment. “Yes, I remember. We were driving along this road and came to a limb that had fallen. When we stopped, two men came from behind some trees. They shot the driver and drug me out of the van.
“We drove for a while, then we stopped at a gas station. One of the men went into the store while the other was pumping gas. When they weren’t looking, I snuck out of the car. They tried to find me but I hid in a dumpster.
“After they left, I hitched a ride back to Kansas City. I wanted to find Dr. Skinner but I didn’t know where to look. I just wandered around and then I spotted a sign in the yard of this hotel advertising a sleeping room.”
I knew Mary Murphy would never let anyone in without paying. “Where did you get the money to rent the room?”
“I don’t know. It was just in my pocket. I don’t know where it came from. Can you take me to Dr. Skinner?”
“Absolutely! I’ll drive you there now.”
When I walked in the doo
r with Warren, Dr. Skinner nearly fell out of his chair.
“Warren! Where in the world have you been? It’s so good to see you!”
He grabbed Warren and gave him a hug, then looked at me quizzically. “Where did you find him?”
We went into his office and I told him what I knew up to that point.
He looked at Warren questioningly. “I don’t understand. When you left this facility, you knew your name and a few other rudimentary things, but that was all. Now, here you are. You can speak fluently and somehow you managed to get back to Kansas City and even rent a room. How can that possibly be?”
Warren just shrugged. “I don’t know. As time went by, things just started coming back to me. It was like I was starting to remember things.”
I saw the look of concern on Skinner’s face. “Oh, dear! My hypothesis was that the erasure would be permanent, a blank slate. That the subject would only remember what was reprogrammed. If what you say is true and everything eventually returns, we have accomplished nothing! Are you willing to stay with me so we can explore this further?”
“Sure, I have no where else to go.”
Skinner turned to me. “Thank you once again. I am in your debt.”
“Glad I could help. I hope you find the answers you are looking for.”
As soon as I returned home, I called Dad, Bernice and Jerry to my apartment. When Warren went missing, they were devastated. I wanted to give them the good news that Warren had returned unharmed.
Naturally, they were delighted, Bernice the most.
“I want to bake him a batch of snickerdoodles. When we met him at the park, he loved them. He ate at least a half-dozen. Walt, do you think it would be all right?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Then I’d better get busy. Come on, John. You can help.”
Lady Justice and Good vs Evil Page 6
