by Tom Holloway
For the first time in my life, I have a critical personal dilemma. I am leaving in six days; my ten days will be up. Because of Anna I am thinking I need to change my life’s direction. Who would think this could happen, and so fast for such a major life decision? The Cyclone thinks I need counseling. I’m going to attempt to retire from my position, although I’m not sure about telling her about this. My intentions may not matter, as there is a good chance I will not be successful. My retirement is complicated, to say the least. Heading back, when I am in face-to-face communication range, I will speak to Gabriel. I will tell him my story. I am unsure how this will go with him—probably not well.
I dread leaving Anna, especially if I cannot make it back for another ten years. She should not have to wait for me. That’s not going to happen; it’s not fair to her. I have to try to do what I can for her before I go back on duty and am gone. Of course there is the issue with all those troops in Russia, too. Not much time to do anything.
Also the Cyclone warned me about our communications breach by the CIA infiltration, Section 58, all because of Anna’s phone calls. I arranged a return penetration into their IT systems, which gave me specific information about the FBI and the CIA. I know they are investigating this lunch meeting today. I need to know a lot more about Section 58 at the CIA. I also need all the FBI information about this whole mess. I especially need to know about the Iranian threat, and I want to know how far the corruption goes in the US government, maybe right up to the president.
The Cyclone will use thousands of our reconnaissance slips to enter and pull information from data banks both artificial, as in computer systems, and organic, meaning people. Unfortunately, entering organic means penetrating human brains and probing memories and following the conversations of US senators as well as officials from the Pentagon, the White House, and other branches and departments, as many as possible. I also want to know what’s going on at Excalibur Bank, in the Deforleo family, and in the Iranian government. The Cyclone will deliver the slips there, too. The top guys at both places will then become very helpful to us. I am not sure why I feel so compelled to interfere in a situation that is none of my business.
Back to lunch with Anna’s family, as I need to focus on how to make this work. I am thinking about how to answer the minefield of questions as the senator continues to interrogate me. Mrs. Jordan, Anna’s mother, is much nicer, asking the usual things: about my parents, family, friends, where I grew up, how I met Anna—nice questions. Mrs. Jordan is a slender, attractive woman in her late fifties. She is not tall, has beautiful blond hair, is very well dressed, and looks as if she has seen a lot in her life. I like her. Anna looks like her. I think she likes me, too. I smile a lot, which is easy to do with her. I try to be charming and answer most of her questions. She does tell me this is the first time Anna has brought a male friend home.
Anna is quick to rescue me when she can break into the flow, using her newfound telepathy skills to coach me, keep me focused. The waiter comes again, thankfully breaking the attention away from me. Anna orders for both of us, saying the club special is great; this is of interest to me, as I have never had one. The blessings with Anna are the new experiences coming every hour. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and to the surprise of her parents she kisses me, smiles, and tells me to behave when she is gone.
The senator is now ordering lunch, too; after drinking several drinks, he orders another. He’s definitely a bourbon guy. We all have ordered lunch. Anna is back, and I am not sure what to do about the senator, as this is so personal for me, dealing with Anna’s family. I really don’t want to disappoint Anna. She reassures me mentally, saying I’m doing fine. I decide to tell the senator we should have lunch again sometime and get to know each other better. I tell him I can try to answer some more of his questions as best I can under my circumstances. I just tell him I was former military, classified operations, not much I can talk about, and currently a type of military consultant. I tell him that as we get to know each other better, I can give him more detail on his questions.
As we continue with lunch, the senator all of a sudden glares at me and says roughly, “I don’t want these evasive answers. No BS! Do you work for the CIA or NSA? What do you really do for a living? Are you solvent, and what are your intentions with Anna?”
I am concerned by his directness and hostility. I look him straight in the eye, penetrating, and firmly say, “Senator, in your situation, with Anna as your stepdaughter, I understand your anxiety. I will tell you I am very wealthy; actually I have many times your wealth. And I know everything about you. And I mean everything. As to what I do for a living, it would be dangerous for you to know what I do. It is also way beyond your comprehension. At some future date, not long off, we will have a long, very complicated discussion. As for my intentions with Anna, they are straight from the heart. Very simply, I care for her!”
The senator is really shocked, can’t hold eye contact with me, real fear and anxiety in his eyes. This is not what I intended, although it is probably impossible for me to have a relationship with him knowing what I know. Yet I want to help him for Anna’s sake. I look to see if she is angry with me because of the exchange. I am surprised to see she is angry but not with me. She is angry with her father.
She is obviously upset with him and blurts out, “Dad, just slow down. I’ve brought Henry to meet you and Mom because he has become important to me. I know you and Mom must be surprised, as this is the first time I’ve brought someone home. Yet it is what it is, and I would appreciate less hostility.”
Anna’s mom, although visibly stunned, is trying to make amends, saying she is glad Anna finally brought a friend home; it’s about time. Actually I am surprised, too. I made my statement of my feelings without thinking, and I am really relieved Anna feels the same. All of this is happening so fast, way too fast even for me, yet as Anna said, it is what it is. We just have to make it all fit.
We all look at one another, and Anna’s mother breaks the silence when she smiles and says, “Well, Anna, I guess that answers the question about how serious you are about Henry. And Henry, the senator and I open our home to you and insist you come out to our farm for the next few days and stay with us. I know Anna is planning to stay with us, and I’m sure you will have a great time. What do you like to do for fun? We can plan to go out for dinner. You also will have a chance to spend time with Nikki, Anna’s sister. Anna doesn’t know this yet, but I just found out she’s coming tomorrow. She wants to see Anna and you, too, Henry.”
Across the room, John Jacobs is looking at Henry sitting at an adjoining table on an outside patio. He is monitoring the surveillance teams at the restaurant. He can’t believe the cameras are not recording, and there is no sound from the microphones placed everywhere, even under their table. Thus nothing has been achieved at the lunch, where there is a chance for some real intelligence. Anna and her family had a nice little reunion, and nothing worked; all their equipment was blocked, no evidence of anything.
John knows for sure this is more than coincidence, yet it would seem some really sophisticated electronic blocking is taking place. He doesn’t have a clue how or from where. If it is not an ET event, it could be the Mafia trying to protect the senator, although if they know about the FBI investigating him, they might have some more sinister plans for him and his family. The only good news today is the senator called Luca Deforleo in New York by cell phone about thirty minutes after the lunch, from his car while driving to his Richmond home. The conversation was recorded. Nothing interfered with this wiretap this time.
The conversation was about the lunch. Apparently the senator thinks Anna’s new boyfriend, Henry, is some kind of military intelligence agent and wants Deforleo to check him out. The surveillance teams agreed that the boyfriend looks real military and maybe is a former SEAL. He is definitely not a guy you would take on without a lot of serious backup. Interestingly enough, Deforleo also mentioned Anna to the senator and said to him this prob
lem with her boyfriend is all the more reason she should marry his son Anthony. He wants the senator to help Anthony get to know Anna. The senator responded this would never happen as long as Henry is around, as there is no question Anna is serious about him. Deforleo laughed and said that is not a problem. He asked the senator if he had brought up the suggestion of a meeting with Anthony, and the senator replied that it was impossible with Henry visiting them. Deforleo suggested to the senator that he tell Anna that Anthony is coming to LA in a couple of weeks, and he would consider it as a favor to a very old friend if Anna would show him around Hollywood and LA.
Deforleo assured the senator that Anthony would take care of Anna and not to worry about Henry. He would take care of Henry; no worries about that. He asked the senator how long Henry is going to be at his Richmond farm. The senator thought two or three days. Deforleo asked the senator to call him back, to check on Henry’s activities, find out when Henry would be planning to be outdoors, maybe when Henry runs if he runs or takes a walk. What does he do in the mornings?
Jacobs wonders if he should warn Henry that his life is in danger. No, the surveillance team will be there, and he will bring in two SWAT teams in addition, knowing an assassination attempt on Henry is going to happen, probably when Anna and Henry take their run in the morning. We should help keep him alive, Jacobs thinks, and they will stop a hit if they see it happening. Henry will not be easy to take down. This is getting really complicated.
And who is this Henry? He does not work for any intelligence unit they could find, or the CIA, as no agency here has any knowledge of him. Might be for a country overseas. Russia? They could find out nothing on him anywhere; real spooky. He does not exist, absolutely nothing. Maybe black operations of Mossad of Israel?
Anyway, John is tired. He needs to go home, see his wife and kids, get a night at home, some real sleep before the early morning activity at the senator’s farm. He is thinking about the best thing that ever happened to him, which is his beautiful, loving wife, Judy, his college sweetheart, now married thirty wonderful years. He is fifty years old, in the CIA all his life, joined right out of college. He is also lucky as she still loves him. Now, after all these years, she has a reason to be proud of him. He has real news to tell her. He finally is at the right place at the right time and can do something for his country and finally make her proud of him.
When he arrives home, the house is dark, and the kids are in bed, maybe Judy, too. He goes into their five-bedroom brick colonial by way of the kitchen door. They have lived in this same house for twenty-five years; it’s in a nice neighborhood, even better with just five years left on the mortgage. They just need to get the kids through college and married off.
Surprising him, Judy is still up, reading on their living room couch under one small reading lamp. She looks up, looking tired, and smiles warmly. “John! Good, you’re home. It’s late. How is work, and how are you? I was getting worried. I have hardly seen you this week!”
He leans down, kisses her, and, with a loving gaze, smiles. “Honey, I am so sorry. How are you, the kids; everything OK? I apologize as I have not been much help around here lately. I will make it up to you. This stuff at work has taken me for a spin.”
Judy responds, saying, “Yes, you do owe me; come in the kitchen; I will fix you something to eat. Do you want a drink? Tell me what is going on while you fix yourself a drink.”
“There have been some new developments in this project I’ve been working on, real remarkable things. I never tell you about my work, as it’s classified information. However, this is different. You need to know this, especially if something happens to me.”
She looks up at him with a worried look on her face. “John, are you in danger? Are we all in danger? What about the kids?”
“No, we’re fine for now, yet I see some serious stuff coming. Never in the history of the world has this type of stuff happened. I think it’s coming. I can feel it. I should not disclose this for many reasons. You cannot tell anyone, absolutely no one! Please, I want to tell you, yet no one must hear this.”
“Judy, do you understand? You cannot divulge this to anyone.”
She has an upset look as she intently stares at him. Seeing her tired, frightened husband, she is totally baffled. She whispers, “Yes, I will tell no one. You have my promise.”
“Honey, you know what my section does. You know no one ever takes us seriously. Everyone laughs at us.” He pauses and looks at his wife, then continues. “Well, it’s hard to tell you this, but I am dead serious. It’s finally happened. We have real contact from an alien life form. I think there are spaceships currently here on Earth, verified proven contact, and they are not from this planet. I’m not sure where they’re from. We have alien visitors, and they’re not trying hard to hide from us. They’re even checking us out. Even crazier, I feel odd, like someone is watching me, and I am afraid. For the first time, I am really afraid. They have to represent a civilization far older, more advanced, as they have starships that come from trillions of miles away, and they are not human, although they may look human.”
“I just know we will have an event sometime in the next few days or maybe in the next few weeks. I think life will change on Earth as we know it.” He looks at his wife in silence, with a foreboding expression, certain finality on his face. She stands, says nothing, and goes to him, wraps her arms around him.
Anthony Deforleo just got off the cell phone with his father. He is thinking his father is normally a pain in the ass, but for a change he is on to something really good. He is working on his senator friend that they own, to help Anthony out. He is trying to hook Anthony up with the senator’s stepdaughter, famous, gorgeous Hollywood actress Anna Summers. Yes, she is somebody he would love to train, make a good girl out of her. Maybe he might get his chance. He laughs, an ugly look on his face. He’s never been a kind man; his laughter is something to fear.
Anthony knows he first has to get some things done. Lot to do. Plus he is short three guys, so he has to do some of this work himself. Three of his best guys are gone; the whole crew just disappeared. Marco, the crew chief, never reported back, and he had some good things going. Not a good sign in this business. He will find out what happened to them, then, time for payback; if someone was behind it, they will suffer plenty. Strange, though, no one knows anything, no sign of them.
No matter, his father told him another shipment of girls is to be picked up in the Ukraine early the following morning. Time to call his pilots, take the corporate jet, another long trip. Yet an enjoyable meeting with some new girls waiting for him, time to train the innocent ones, young girls between fifteen and twenty, just the right age to break in, their total surrender to him inevitable. Their pain is his pleasure, slowly breaking them down, and then teaching them the skills of prostitution and sexual slavery. He prides himself on breaking their will in four weeks, then they are making him money, with several tricks a day. Each girl averages $3,000 a day in revenue, six days a week, for about $72,000 a month minus $6,000 a month in total expense. This leaves $66,000 a month in profits, thus each girl is worth much more than half million a year. They are good for about six years, and then he sells them at auction for around $50,000, depending on their looks and ages. If not sold, they are eliminated.
What a wonderful moneymaker. His father finally admits it is the best source of revenue they have and all because of Anthony. It is better than selling drugs; there are no turf wars. The number of customers is unlimited, too, as there’s a constant demand. They have gone national, with girls set up in every state. He is even leasing the girls out monthly and always with plenty of blackmail possibilities. Truly a great business, and there is little risk of going to jail. No girl ever testifies. He laughs.
Everyone knows how well Anthony trains his girls, and a GPS chip is embedded in each of them, so they can never escape him. The chip is embedded under their scalp during the plane trip to the United States, when they are initially drugged. They land on an iso
lated and unknown landing strip in northern Minnesota. They end up in a warehouse not too far from the airstrip, also isolated. No one hears their screams. The training methods are perfected through a lot of experience. They all give in sooner or later. The drugs help, too; cocaine is the best controller. We use shots of hormones to help make sex addicts out of these girls, as they are young and vulnerable to the effects. It is helpful in their line of business.
They also learn about the leather belt. It will be used a lot during training and as a weekly reminder as the months go by. It is amazing how well it works across their bottoms, leaving no marks on their faces.
Sometimes, after they become working girls, one is enticed to escape just so she can become an example to the rest. Anthony enjoys these moments immensely, savoring them, torturing her in front of the rest, a slow, painful death. Killing one every so often keeps them all in line, culls out the losers, too. It helps the attitudes of the rest. They are willing to please customers with any fetish, never a complaint. Anthony always enjoys doing quality control. He again laughs to himself.
The girls are so pretty, young, and sweet when they get on the plane. They come from villages located all over Europe and Russia. They can speak a little English; still they know how to giggle and laugh as happy, young girls do, when going to fulfill their dreams. They are excited and so proud about being selected to be models in the United States, to make more money than they ever dreamed about, to receive their visas. Amazingly enough, sometimes their parents actually deliver them to the corporate jet. Also proud of their daughters although the mothers are crying at letting them go; tears pour; promises to write home are made. They sacrifice as a better life beckons for their daughters. They are told the immigration process will be done for them—another lie. If they somehow escape, they are deported back to their homeland. If they are lucky enough to make it back home, they are too ashamed to tell anyone of their deeds.
