The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2

by Nathan M. Farrugia

  ‘This op didn’t go exactly how I planned it,’ Grace said.

  ‘We have Schlosser, alive,’ Sophia said.

  Grace snapped the SIM card in half. ‘That counts for something.’

  ‘Freeman’s lucky to have you,’ Sophia said.

  Grace tossed both the phone and the SIM card into the bin. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not stealing your limelight,’ she said. ‘This op was planned before you showed up. I was his only play. I’m not part of the Akhana.’

  ‘You spent time in the mountains with them,’ Sophia said. ‘So you’re just a drop-in? Passing through, free hospitality?’

  ‘Let’s make this clear,’ Grace said. ‘I don’t owe anybody anything. Once we reach a safe house and we extract what information Schlosser knows, I’m out.’

  Sophia shook her head. ‘That doesn’t add up. Why take on this op and then split afterward if you don’t owe anyone anything?’

  Grace leaned in and spoke softly. ‘For the information. Whatever’s in that man’s head.’ She indicated Schlosser, sitting inside the minivan. ‘What you do with that information is your concern. What I do with it is my concern.’

  ‘Does Freeman know this?’

  Grace swallowed. ‘He understands the arrangement. I’m not looking for a promotion. I’m looking for answers.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sophia emptied her pockets on the hotel bed. Freeman’s friend hadn’t been especially pleased to have a bunch of fugitives turn up on his hotel doorstep. Whatever favor he owed Freeman, it must have been a big one, because he was quick to organize three rooms for them. Through the balcony door, Sophia could see a swimming pool and restaurant. Beyond that, palm trees fringed calm turquoise water. Everyone else was here because it was paradise. She was here to stay alive.

  She opened the adjoining door to the next room. Grace was sitting talking with Schlosser. Benito was in the next room along. He’d only micro-slept the whole way over on the ferry, so Sophia had insisted he rest up in the hotel while he had the chance.

  ‘I didn’t work on any switches, sorry,’ Schlosser was saying.

  He sat, hands clasped, on the room’s only chair. Grace was sitting on one of the two beds opposite.

  ‘What switches?’ Sophia said.

  ‘It’s not important,’ Grace said. She walked over to the desk and picked up what looked like a world map. ‘Here—we have all the confirmed locations of the Seraphim facilities.’

  Sophia inspected the map. Each location had precise longitude and latitude coordinates. She recognized the New York and Miami locations from Adamicz’s diary, but the others were unfamiliar to her.

  ‘Alaska, Nevada, Denver,’ Grace said.

  Schlosser shifted in the chair, making it creak. ‘Operations are run from Denver. There’s no transmitter at Denver as far as I know.’

  Sophia looked at Grace. ‘OpCenter?’

  ‘I’ve never been there,’ Schlosser said. ‘It could be NORAD and Air Force Space Command for all I know.’

  Sophia shook her head. ‘It’s too far north for NORAD, but it’s close. Possibly connected.’

  ‘How’s your hand?’ Grace asked Schlosser.

  His hand was freshly bandaged again. He wiggled his fingers. ‘Four stitches,’ he said.

  There was a knock at the door. Sophia checked through the fisheye. It was Freeman and Chickenhead. She let them inside.

  Freeman wedged a cigarette over one ear and folded his arms. ‘If you need anything, food, water, something a little stronger, you just let us know, mate.’

  Schlosser nodded curtly. ‘Water is fine, thank you.’

  Freeman inclined his head slightly to Grace. She moved for the minibar.

  The door from Sophia’s room opened and Nasira joined the group. She’d returned from her perimeter sweep of the hotel.

  ‘I expect you all want to know what this is about, yes?’ Schlosser said.

  Freeman took Grace’s place on the edge of the bed. ‘First things first. Is it weather control or is it mind control?’

  Everyone was silent. Grace returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cap removed. Schlosser sipped it gratefully.

  ‘Project Seraphim is designed to influence the mind,’ he said.

  Freeman flashed Sophia a resigned glance. ‘Seems you were right, after all.’

  Sophia shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘I wasn’t aware you were doubting me.’

  ‘That’s because I wasn’t,’ Freeman said, returning his attention to Schlosser. ‘You don’t know anything about the severe weather over the last few years?’ he asked Schlosser.

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing that relates to this. I know little more than you do.’

  ‘What about the lone gunmen?’ Sophia said. ‘Are they connected at all?’

  ‘I do not follow,’ Schlosser said. ‘Gunmen like these shocktroopers who abducted me?’

  ‘No, not trained, not shocktroopers. Twenty-one lone gunmen last year, that I know of. Nineteen in the US. Some have accomplices who mysteriously disappear, or teams supporting them from a distance. The operations are usually well planned and executed, often supplied with weapons by a Fifth Column proxy. The gunman gets out there and kills a bunch of people. Or at least tries to, while the support team does most of the work. And after that, the gunman gives himself up.’

  ‘Or head jobs himself with a pistol,’ Nasira said. She put a finger gun to her head and made a pow sound.

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ Schlosser said. ‘Project Seraphim was designed for hostile states. Opposing armies. The intention was to use Seraphim as a pre-emptive strike on ground forces. With particular interest in Iranian nuclear installations.’

  ‘Yeah, well, the only pre-emptive strike the Fifth Column used on Iran was a nuke of their own,’ Sophia said. ‘Which almost killed me, by the way.’

  ‘So what about the lone gunmen? They trial runs or something?’ Nasira asked.

  Grace stood between Sophia and Freeman. ‘Why would they need that many trial runs?’

  ‘They don’t,’ Freeman said. ‘It’s a shock effect.’

  Schlosser looked puzzled. He scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You’ve been left in the dark on a lot of the project, Doctor,’ Freeman said. ‘Which is unsurprising. The Fifth Column’s success lies in their obsessive compartmentalization.’

  ‘You are saying I’ve been lied to?’ Schlosser said.

  Freeman choked back laughter. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ he said quickly, ‘but if I had a dollar for every time I heard that.’

  ‘What does this shock achieve?’ Schlosser asked.

  ‘A permanently traumatized population will beg for firmer controls,’ Freeman said. ‘To keep them safe.’

  ‘A police state?’ Nasira said. ‘I hate to break it to you but that’s kinda already happening.’

  ‘Gradually,’ Freeman said. ‘People need to want it. Demand it. When that happens, the Fifth Column will be at the zenith of their power.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t see this,’ Schlosser said.

  ‘There are ways to induce change in a person,’ Sophia said. ‘One of those is the use of shocks, physical or emotional, to the human system. If the shock is sufficient, the human system melts down and becomes plastic enough that someone can remould it into a new configuration. They did this to us in Project GATE. It works just as well on entire populations.’

  ‘This was not … Wait, which configuration do you speak of?’ Schlosser said.

  ‘Social beliefs,’ DC said, entering the room with Benito at his side.

  ‘Pavlov had a name for that,’ Freeman said. ‘Transmarginal inhibition.’ He turned to DC. ‘How did you go with your planning?’

  ‘Good. I’ve mapped out our shifts,’ DC said. ‘We’ll have two people on watch at all times. And one person with Schlosser and yourself at all times.’

  ‘I want us in separate rooms,’ Freeman said. ‘And y
ou’ll need a third person watching Benito.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ DC addressed the rest of the group. ‘I’d like everyone else on six-hour rotation.’

  Freeman nodded and turned back to Schlosser. ‘Social violence is a time-tested method used by psychopaths to melt down a population. Makes them amenable to changes they’d otherwise never accept.’

  ‘That won’t work,’ Schlosser said. ‘If anything leaks—and it always does—people will turn against the government, yes?’

  ‘And that’s why the Fifth Column can never do this openly,’ Freeman said. ‘The psychopath’s greatest fear when in control of a population is for that population to learn of its controller’s true nature and turn against it. So the violence must be presented as coming from somewhere else. A foreign terrorist, a local extremist, a mentally unstable neighbor. Whatever.’

  ‘But that’s what Seraphim was designed for,’ Schlosser said. ‘To be used on a foreign terrorist or state. An aggressive one.’

  Freeman walked over to the world map Sophia had been inspecting earlier. ‘No disrespect, Doctor, but I don’t think you’re getting this. These installations are on American soil. That means one thing. They’re not being used for Americans, they’re being used on Americans.’

  ‘I hate to say it,’ Nasira said, ‘but I don’t think this project was ever meant for an Iranian nuclear facility.’

  ‘Then what do you suppose it was meant for?’ Schlosser said. ‘To what purpose?’

  Chickenhead laughed. ‘Well, if you don’t know, mate, we certainly don’t.’

  ‘What about the terrorists?’ Schlosser said.

  ‘You’re lookin’ at ’em,’ Nasira said.

  ‘Virtually all of the problems of this world come down to one thing,’ Freeman said. ‘Psychopaths like Denton and the people who operate the higher echelons of the Fifth Column do everything they can to prevent the rest of us from having any real control over our future. They impose their depraved worldview on us. We become molded and infected by their pathological beliefs. Rape, torture, war, misogyny, it all becomes normalized. We lose the ability to distinguish normal human behavior from pathological.’

  ‘That’s complete … insanity,’ Schlosser said.

  ‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Sophia said.

  ‘Sorry, Doc, but the patients have overtaken the asylum,’ Nasira said.

  ‘We can only imagine what life would be like if psychopaths didn’t have the scope of influence on society that they do today,’ Freeman said.

  ‘Most of us can’t even imagine that,’ Chickenhead said.

  ‘That’s because most of us don’t know they exist,’ Schlosser said. ‘I certainly did not.’

  ‘But you know you’re doing their work,’ Sophia said. ‘Or were.’

  ‘Let’s stay focused, people,’ Freeman said. ‘Doctor, can this Seraphim technology target individuals and large numbers of people?’

  Schlosser pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We transitioned from one to the other. Early on, we targeted foreign agents in some trials, planted ELF transmitters under their beds—coils of magnetic wire connected to a portable power source—which produced sine-wave transmissions while they slept. Prolonged exposure at particular frequencies resulted in permanent damage to the cerebral cortex.’

  ‘English, please,’ Chickenhead said.

  ‘You become a crazy person,’ Schlosser said.

  It reminded Sophia of the string of news reporters across the States who’d suddenly started talking nonsense in the middle of their live reports. It only lasted five or ten seconds. They’d return to their normal dialog, none the wiser. It wouldn’t have surprised her if that was an early Seraphim trial run too. Nothing surprised her any more.

  ‘But we moved away from this portable application,’ Schlosser said. ‘The focus of Project Seraphim was the transmitters.’

  ‘Population targeting,’ Sophia said.

  Schlosser wet his lips. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what are they doing now?’ she asked. ‘What’s their plan?’

  Schlosser shook his head. ‘It seems you know more than I do.’

  ‘Are there particular outcomes? Emotions, moods, actions?’

  ‘It can be anything,’ Schlosser said. ‘Certain frequencies—certain combinations of frequencies—can entrain paranoia, depression, anger, even manic rage.’

  ‘How long does it last?’ Sophia said.

  ‘It only takes a quarter of a second to lock on to individuals and entrain the frequencies inside their brains,’ Schlosser said. ‘And it lasts only as long as the transmission lasts.’

  ‘How long can the Seraphim transmissions last?’

  Schlosser shook his head. ‘There is no limit. The last trial they ran when I was there, transmission duration was three hours.’

  ‘Shit,’ Sophia said.

  ‘But the transmitters were only at ten percent capacity when I visited an installation. The area of effect was limited to the size of a small residential block.’

  ‘What are they on now?’ Grace asked, beating Sophia to it.

  ‘Twenty percent,’ Schlosser said. ‘They are increasing the output by tenfold since the last trial. If they are running according to schedule, then they should be at one hundred percent in …’ He checked his wristwatch. ‘Three days from now, in their time zone.’

  ‘Do you have proof of this?’ Freeman said. ‘Of this schedule?’

  Schlosser shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m out of the project now.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Chickenhead said, launching to his feet. ‘We just went to hell and back to bring you in! No offense, but I could’ve stayed on that fucking submarine and, you know, maybe my best mate would still be around right now.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Freeman said. ‘He needs some rest.’

  ‘This is a bloody joke,’ Chickenhead said. ‘We go through all of this crap so someone can tell us what we already know? Sophia knew all that stuff from the journal she was reading. Do we have any new intel on this, or are we just spinning our wheels here?’

  ‘We have the installation locations,’ Freeman said. ‘I can try to get in touch with—’

  ‘With who?’ Chickenhead said. ‘Everyone’s either compromised or dead!’

  ‘He has a point,’ Nasira said.

  ‘Look, our Doctor here has valuable information,’ Sophia said. ‘It may not be of value to him but it can be of value to us. We just need time to go through all of it.’

  ‘Fuck going through all of it!’ Chickenhead yelled.

  ‘Walk away,’ Freeman said. ‘Now.’

  Chickenhead stood motionless for a moment, then moved in long strides for the door.

  Once he’d left, Freeman turned to DC. ‘Speak with him once he cools off.’

  DC nodded and left.

  ‘OK, that should do it for now,’ Freeman said. ‘Let’s get everyone on rotation. We can chat more later. The doctor needs some rest.’

  Sophia followed Freeman to the kitchenette, Grace two steps behind.

  ‘There’s more,’ Sophia said.

  ‘She’s right,’ Grace said, suddenly at her side. ‘Those shocktroopers pulled out all the stops to extract him. They really didn’t want us near this guy. He knows something.’

  ‘And whatever that is,’ Sophia said, ‘the Fifth Column really don’t want us to find out about it.’

  Freeman nodded. ‘I’m going to get everyone’s food sorted and try to contact our submarine. Then you should try to get some sleep. Both of you.’

  ‘I’d sleep better knowing at least one ex-operative was awake,’ Sophia said. ‘Nasira or DC, or one of us.’

  ‘DC?’ Grace shot her a quizzical look.

  ‘Fine,’ Freeman said. ‘Keep your new identities on you at all times.’

  ‘Where are we moving to?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘We have a safe house in Kuala Lumpur,’ Freeman said. ‘It will be a lot easier if we can go by sub.’

  Might be safer if we never lea
ve the sub, Sophia thought.

  With nothing else to do right now, she returned to her and Nasira’s room and collapsed on her bed. She took the P99 from her jeans and checked the magazine. Nasira had donated six rounds, bringing her grand total to seven. She smiled and closed her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep but she figured there was no harm in trying.

  She needed to know more about this schedule. If Seraphim was about to hit full capacity soon, then any city in the United States was a target. The riots were already spiraling out of control, possibly caused by Seraphim; she hated to think of what a Seraphim riot ten times that size would do. The Fifth Column would have their police state in no time.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sophia snapped to attention when Grace called her. She must have dozed off just minutes after lying down. She was still fully clothed, pistol in hand. She got to her feet and stuffed her pistol in her waistband, then opened the door into the adjacent room.

  Grace’s gaze was fixated on the wall-mounted television. Schlosser was at the desk, watching over his glasses. Grace didn’t take her eyes off the screen, just pointed at it with the remote. Sophia walked over to get a look. Onscreen was Cecilia McLoughlin. The last person she expected to see. Mainly because she’d shot her dead.

  ‘This is old footage, right?’ Sophia said.

  Cecilia stood before a glass podium wearing a lavender jacket over a navy blue top. Her hair was cut slightly shorter and her lips curled into a suspect smile as she spoke. There was no mistaking her identity.

  ‘When was this shot?’ Sophia said, rubbing sleep from her eyes. ‘How did it leak?’

  Grace’s voice was low. ‘This isn’t a leak. Delayed broadcast.’

  ‘Delayed?’ Sophia said. ‘Months? Years?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘A few hours.’

  Sophia’s mind reeled. Her brain still felt sticky inside and it took her a moment to fully comprehend that Cecilia was staring at her through the television. Publicly visible. She felt a chill run across her arms and neck.

  The title under Cecilia’s face read FEMA Administrator. She stood in a large control room littered with desks, computers, phones and blue office chairs. The wall behind her was mounted with a grid of televisions and two flags: the American flag and a blue and white Department of Homeland Security flag.