by Frank Klus
All four were satisfied, but it was an uneasy satisfaction. Eugene got up to turn on the television. “The news comes on at five. Anyone mind if I turn it on?” No one objected.
“Our top story tonight is the bizarre situation surrounding the Tough Love Camp run by Horace Hayfield. A young boy treated for aggressive behavior tells a shocking story of torture at that camp. Kayla Tucker has the story.”
“Tonya, we’re at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Savena in Mayfield, Ohio, whose son, Jeffrey, went to the Tough Love Camp, and has made some rather bizarre statements. Mr. Savena, can you tell us what your son said?”
“Well, Kayla, first he kept complaining of bad dreams. He’d wake up screaming, and then he told us he was tortured with a pen that had wires hanging out of it.”
“And do you believe this had something to do with the tough love camp?”
“My boy said the camp gave him bad headaches.”
“Like migraines?”
“Worse,” Mrs. Savena said. “It was really bad. He’d wake up saying, ‘mommy it hurts.’ And then he’d start crying.’”
“Did he seem fine before he went to the camp?”
“Yes,” Mr. Savena said. “He never complained of headaches before.”
“What would you like to see happen?”
“We want that camp shut down.”
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Savena.”
“Kayla, this is Tonya Cummings. Can the family provide any other details about what was going on in the camp?”
“Tonya, the children say they can’t remember much of anything at the camp. At this time the children only complained of bad dreams they were having, but all report terrible headaches caused by the use of some object being reported as pens, sticks, fingers, and pokers.”
“Thank you for that report, Kayla.”
“That son of a bitch!” Eugene yelled. “I remembered that commercial that guy was running. I remembered it seemed exactly like what was happening to me in that torture chamber I was in. My God, they’re doing this to kids.”
“And they’re remembering,” Ray said.
“This could be bad news for us,” Cassandra said.
“I don’t understand,” Pamela said.
“If their attempt to manipulate how people think and act becomes a colossal failure,” Ray said, “in the sense that it comes out they’re torturing people, and then trying to erase peoples’ memory of it…well…it could spur widespread rebellion. The people who started this, probably NSA or CIA, are going to do everything they can to cover this up. Because Eugene experienced the camp, they may fear he could leak out details of his experience. Our lives are in danger.”
Just then, Pamela’s phone rang. She looked for the caller. “It’s Moore,” she said, in excitement toward the others. “Hello, Senator Moore.”
“Thank you for answering, Pamela,” a strange voice said. “Stay right there and someone will be there to help you.” Pamela quickly hung up.
“What is it?” Eugene said.
“They have Moore.” She repeated the message. “Could they find us?”
“It’s possible,” Ray said, “but it may also be a trap to flush us out.”
“We gotta move,” Pamela said.
“I agree,” both Ray and Cassandra said.
Casimir’s phone rang. “Casimir, things are spinning out of control,” Alberto Martinez said. “That Hayseed or Haystack, whatever the fuck his name is, just exposed our machine to the general public. Jesus Christ, who the hell sold him that thing?”
“The Institute,” Casimir said. “I didn’t know about it either until I saw his infomercial. I found out he bought the machine and the training to use it for a million dollars.”
“It cost over a billion dollars to develop it, and this asshole buys it for a thousandth of that amount?”
“Grifton and Schmidt saw an opportunity to make a profit on it, and then leave the country, is my guess. They’re both gone now. I’ve been trying to call them with no answer. I went down there, and the doors were locked. Finally, one of the technicians answered and he told me all that I told you.”
“Christ, what a mess,” Martinez said. “I want you to put an all-Squad on this. Find those two assholes and bring them back. I want them alive. As for our four fugitives—get rid of them permanently; especially Sulke. We have a lead on them. We know they’re in a motel in western Minnesota.”
“How did you find that out?”
“We got Moore’s cell phone with a hot line to Pamela Piper. Once she answers the phone, we get her GPS.”
“Isn’t her phone encrypted?”
“Senator Moore gave us the password. He was very cooperative, and we were very persuasive.”
“Does Piper know she was being tracked?”
“Moore says he never told her about a tracking device inside the phone, but she may be on the move. Look, we have to act fast. You got a pen and paper?”
“Yeah.”
“Here are their coordinates. Let the Hogs know, and let me know when you got them. Then have the Hogs take them out.”
“Captain Miller, you may go in now.”
“John, sit down,” Jaydan Casimir said.
“I’m sorry to report, Jay; still no info on your wife.”
“I know. I called you in because she cleaned out a CD with twenty-five grand in it. I don’t know why she did that, but it’s apparent to me now that she’s put the pieces together. She told me she wasn’t having any more bad dreams, but I think she was lying to me. I think she was remembering, just like those kids. She probably picked up bits and pieces of the truth, connected the dots, and left me.”
“My wife told me that she mentioned she knew about Hell House. She said you told her about it.”
“That would be the last thing I’d mention.”
“Any idea where she might have gone?”
“She may be looking for Fernando.”
“Fer…who?”
“We put him through the brain probe, but he went nuts, killed a guard, knocked out the doctor, and then used the probe on himself until he died from the shock.”
“And you think Sandy knows this guy, and is looking for him?”
“She was married to him before Hell House. She may have figured that out. I don’t know where else she’d go. It’s also possible she went to some motel or hotel until she cools off. Look, John, check the hotels in the area. If you find her, treat her gently. I suppose she has a right to be sore.”
“Where would she go to find Fernando?”
“She may have found his address, or remembered where she used to live. In any event, here’s the address we have on file.” Casimir paused to write it down. “He was also in Joliet for not paying back a loan. She may go there asking a lot of questions. Make sure Hank keeps his mouth shut. If he creates a problem for you, just tell him to call me.”
“I understand, Jay. Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find her.”
Chapter 18:
Flight
Thirty Hours Earlier:
Sandy woke up around two in the morning and heard Jaydan snoring. She climbed out of bed as quietly as she could, tiptoed over to where her husband hung his pants up, and fished around for his keys. She removed them as quietly as possible and grabbed her phone from the dresser; then tiptoed downstairs, and into the den. She found the key that opened the desk drawers, and searched.
She wasn’t sure she knew what to look for, but she was certain she would know it if she saw it. After several minutes she found a letter from Mercy Psychiatric Institute with a reference to Operation Brain Probe. There was a name on it: Dr. Johann Schmidt, Chief Executive Officer of Mercy Psychiatric Institute. There was another reference to Frederick Grifton, Chief of Psychiatry.
She took a picture of the letter with her phone, and then, a few minutes later, she found another letter from the Institute. She read it verbatim.
Dear Dr. Schmidt:
The equipment and training my client, Horace Hayfield,
received have resulted in unusual outcomes among his clientele. Such outcomes have resulted in a growing list of complaints concerning the defective service they have received. As a result, we are demanding the return of one million dollars for the purchase of the defective equipment and eleven million dollars to cover legal costs associated with the use of said equipment. We will, of course, return such equipment to you. Should you not comply with our request, we will have no other recourse but to take you to court. I am looking forward to your response in a timely manner.
Yours,
F. Thomas Taylor
F. Thomas Taylor
Attorney-at-Law
Sandy took a picture of the document. She continued the search. Then she found another letter addressed to her husband, and read it.
Dear Commandant Jaydan Casimir:
At your request, we have dismissed charges against Sandra Menendez for embezzlement. She will be released at twelve noon on Wednesday, June 13.
Yours Truly,
H.P. Wilcox
H.P. Wilcox
Warden, Joliet Prison
Once again, Sandy took a picture of the document, and searched some more. From the same file folder she found an even more shocking letter.
Dear Commandant Jaydan Casimir:
We are pleased to report to you that Fernando Menendez has signed the divorce papers that Sandra Menendez served on her husband. The signing was at the urging of Sandra Menendez herself. Judge Brier Thompson has accepted the papers, and announced the marriage dissolved. You are now free to take Miss Sandra Montgomery as your wife. Congratulations, sir.
Yours Truly,
Hector Ortiz
Hector Ortiz
Attorney-at-Law
Sandy began crying as she took the picture.
She found several more letters similar to this. One was a letter from Dr. Grifton, informing Mr. Martinez that a brain probe treatment was successful. Other letters indicated various problems with the procedure.
There could be no doubt now in Sandy’s mind that she went through the brain probe treatment. Her memories of a good life with Fernando Menendez were erased from her mind, and replaced by false memories of falling in love with Jaydan Casimir, and agreeing to marry him. What do I do now? Confront Jay or run away?
She went back upstairs after she carefully replaced everything and relocked the drawers. She then replaced the keys in Jay’s pocket and climbed into bed.
“Where’d you go, dear?” Jay asked.
Sandy was startled. “I was having trouble sleeping and took the sedative you got for me.”
“What did you need my keys for?”
“What?”
“I heard a little jangling like keys.”
“It was just some change I found in the bathroom. I just put it in the change drawer.”
A couple hours later Jay woke up, worried, and walked downstairs into the study. He stood over the desk, looking down, and stared. He was frowning.
The next morning there was no mention of keys, and Jay went to work as usual. Sandy put the plan she came up with into action. She knew she had to work fast.
She took the bus to their bank and withdrew twenty-five thousand dollars, and then took another ten grand from her credit card. Then she took a cab to Mercy Psychiatric Institute, where she asked to see Dr. Schmidt.
“May I get your name please?” the secretary asked.
“My name is Sandra Casimir, the wife of Commandant Jaydan Casimir.”
The secretary called his boss.
“Go right in Mrs. Casimir.”
She knocked and entered Dr. Schmidt’s office.
“Hello, Mrs. Casimir. Please take a seat,” he said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”
“Dr. Schmidt I’d like to know more about who I was?”
“Who you were?” Dr. Schmidt asked as if he was expecting the punchline.
“You know I went through the procedure, right?”
“Procedure, Mrs. Casimir?”
“Please don’t patronize me. About a month ago I started having strange dreams. Initially, they were nightmares of being in some sort of clinic with a lot of wires, something on my head, and a stick that caused enormous pain. One more thing—a name: Fernando.”
“Your husband told me about some strange dreams, but they are not that uncommon. Are you still taking the sedative I prescribed for you? You didn’t stop taking it did you?”
“I never did take it.”
“Mrs. Casimir—”
“Please don’t interrupt me. Allow me to continue.” She paused, and Casimir motioned for her to carry on.
“Thank you. What I was about to say was that I was beginning to have flashbacks.”
“Flashbacks, Mrs. Casimir? Could you explain?”
“It’s hard to explain. Something would flash in my mind. Maybe something in my dream I had forgotten. Anyway, I had this one flashback of a signature on some document that I know now was a divorce paper. The signature read ‘Fernando Menendez’. There appeared to be tear stains. I just remembered that now. Anyway, I had a last name and I did some research at the library and—”
“Why are you telling me this, Mrs. Casimir?”
“The treatment doesn’t work, and you know it,” she said sharply. “I’ve seen copies of letters in my husband’s desk. You’re being sued, right?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Casimir, but I’m not at liberty to discuss this, and, being rather busy, I’m afraid I’ll have to end this conversation.”
He got up to thank her for coming, but Sandy didn’t move. “Sit down, doctor. We have more to discuss.”
Dr. Schmidt was taken aback. Sandy was very serious, and she wasn’t about to move.
“Please, Mrs. Casimir. I cannot talk about this. My lawyer said so.” Still, Sandy refused to move.
“Sit, Doctor.”
Dr. Schmidt did so, and motioned for Sandy to continue.
“They’re going to shut down the Institute and arrest you. They’ll go after Dr. Grifton as well. You may not want to discuss this with me, but you must. You know I’m right.”
“Who do you mean by ‘they’, Mrs. Casimir?”
“The people who fund the project. I don’t know the specifics. I don’t know who they are, but I saw the name of someone who appeared to be behind this project. His name is Alberto Martinez.”
Dr. Schmidt went ashen, and a look of surprise came over his face, which he quickly tried to hide. Sandy took notice, and continued like a prosecutor.
“I believe the purpose is to change the behavior and character of people into whatever this Martinez guy wants. I believe they can change political dissidents, who are perceived as a danger to the nation, into good American Party enthusiasts.”
Dr. Schmidt looked downcast. He had no idea she could know so much, realizing she had been right about everything.
“I also know that, at the request of my husband, I was removed from jail and given the treatment. I don’t truly understand why I was in jail, but I underwent treatment to remove pleasant memories of my original husband, Fernando Menendez, and convinced him to divorce me. Today, however, I have only bits and pieces of a life with him. Those bits and pieces, Dr. Schmidt, were of a loving man. Now, does that square with what you know?—AND DON’T PATRONIZE ME. I want the truth, and I’m not going home to Commandant Casimir. I want out of here. I want to go to New America.”
Dr. Schmidt looked down again, frowning. Then he nodded in agreement. “All you have said is true, but getting out of here is impossible. They’ll catch us, and then things will be worse.”
“I have an idea. There is a woman, Pamela Piper, who has been taking persecuted people to New America. I don’t know anything about her except she can get people out of the United States for a fee of twenty-five thousand dollars, and I think, with your help, we can find her.” She paused and looked at Schmidt.
“She is the sister of Redd Piper,” he said. “He’s the founder of New America. I’m sorry, but I don’t know
where she is.”
“Please, Dr. Schmidt. You know more than you’re admitting. Tell me what you know about her. Any information could help us get in contact with her.”
“She’s escorting a man out of the country to New America. The whole Squad, not to mention the RAC, is looking for them. If that’s not bad enough, a motorcycle gang called the Hogs is looking for them as well. They’re ex-Blue Squaders, the squad’s best. There is, I’ve heard, a million dollar bounty on her and her company.” Sandy gasped.
“It gets worse, though, I’m afraid. She’s been relying on help from a government informer—a Senator Moore. He’s been kidnapped and is being held in a secure location, waiting for treatment. I know the doctor who’s going to do the treatment.”
“Is he in Hell House?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where this place—Hell House—is?”
“Yes.”
“Then, if we can get him out of there, he can contact Mrs. Piper, right?”
“Even if I could rescue that senator, the phone he uses to contact Pamela Piper is useless now.”
“What do you mean?”
“They already called her. Not being very experienced, they blurted out the fact that they got her location.”
“Then you know where she is?”
“That senator would know where she was.”
Sandra looked confused.
“You see, they coerced the senator into giving his kidnappers the use of his private phone. Someone used it to call her and let out that they know exactly where she’s at.”
“Still, if we can rescue that senator he could get in contact with her.”
