The Killing Collective

by Gary Starta

  “We have to know whose side he’s on, Jill. Don’t worry; I’m just going to ruffle his feathers a little and see what happens. I’ll tell him we found Montgomery but that I want to have a couple of days to build a stronger case before we make the arrest. That’ll keep Monty safe, and Fischetti’ll go along with it as long as he sees an easy end in sight. When I walk out of that office, it’ll be his move. He’ll have to act either for us or against us. It’s his turn to be tested, and it’s pass or fail. I hope he’s not dirty, but I’m not counting on it, honey. If I’m right, he’s guilty.”

  Monty went ahead of them to bring his car around to the front of the building. Tentatively, Carter rested his hands on Seacrest’s shoulders. He was unsure his touch was welcome after what happened between them last night.

  She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He answered by lowering his head and risking a kiss on her cheek. “I knew you couldn’t hurt me, Carter. I knew it.”

  ***

  Deputy Director Fischetti swallowed audibly. “You mean you tracked down Moreland - I mean, Montgomery - without anyone else’s help?”

  Carter nodded and took a seat. “I can’t say much right now. I think he has eavesdropping devices of his own. I’m asking you to trust my judgment on this.”

  Fischetti knitted his eyebrows. “Trust your judgment?” He fiddled around with the pen he was holding. “What do you mean? Why do you look all beaten up?”

  “I fell down the stairs, sir. It’s nothing. I’m going to tell Montgomery we’re willing cut a deal with him if he’ll help us catch the people operating the Collective and their meetings. If I’m right, he’ll lead me around in circles and then attack. If I’m wrong, he’ll lead me straight to them, in which case I have every intention of sending him in there to get solid evidence for us. If he can get that evidence, I don’t care if he comes out alive or in a body bag, but I need a few pieces of equipment to do it. Can you arrange it for me, sir?”

  “Equipment? Right, sure, no problem. So, you agree he was one of the kingpins behind the murders? Do you trust him enough to set up a meeting with them and not double-cross us? It’s a huge risk to take. The director is convinced he’s the only one we want. No one’s been able to find a thing on Meese or anyone else.”

  “I know that, sir, but I believe the evidence is there if we can get it.”

  Fischetti sighed. “I’m O.K. with the plan if you’ll agree to have some back-up at your command. We’ll need the time and place.”

  He knows I suspect him. The back-up will come, but not to help us.

  “Agent Carter, are you sure you’re up to it? No offense, but you look like shit.”

  Carter leaned back in the chair, practically green with nausea. “It’s probably just something I ate last night. I’m fine.”

  Hold it together just a few minutes more.

  “I’ll start the paper work. What do you need?”

  “Sir, I need to requisition a lapel video cam, a wire, and some audio surveillance equipment.”

  The deputy director swept some documents into a drawer.

  Am I the one upsetting Fischetti, or is it those two men who stormed into his office with no notice and no identification? Do they belong to the JASONS, the Bureau, or…who were those guys?

  “Done. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Not right now. Well, yes, come to think of it. Sir, I think it would be better if we kept this just between ourselves. I don’t want to spook anyone.”

  Except for you. Go right ahead and tell ‘em, Fischetti. That’s just what I want. Shout it from the rooftops. I have no intentions of using your equipment. Your team won’t hear a thing that happens tonight.

  Carter and Fischetti looked at each other head on. Carter saw regret in his eyes and fear on his face.

  Carter was positive the higher officials at the Bureau knew by now that he was in possession of the Burn List. If that was the case, then Fischetti knew it too. He was anything but dumb.

  If he already knows we have the Burn List, he won’t be able to resist the opportunity to take us all out of the game for good and make a name for himself at the same time. Monty probably won’t make it out of there alive. I just hope he gets what we need before this all goes down.

  If I were Fischetti, how would I make my final play? He can’t afford to make any mistakes, and he can’t afford to lose.

  ***

  Since the Bureau expected Monty to be hiding out, they decided the safest place was in their own apartment. When Carter was sure they weren’t being followed, Monty drove them back there.

  Carter sat in front of his computer with Montgomery beside him, stone-faced. Jill sat on the bed just behind them, prepared to be amazed by Carter, who was online trying to set up a meeting with the JASONS. He assumed he could contact them the same way they used to reach him. He went onto YouTube and posted a message to his own wedding video praying for an answer.

  “I hope this works.” Monty was thinking about tonight and he admitted so much to the agents. He was way over his head when it came to espionage. He was thinking too much about the extreme danger and high probability of failure, and the anxiety was overpowering him.

  Carter and Seacrest already discussed the possibility that he might shut down completely and blow their one chance of catching the Silver Man and whoever else might be there representing the JASONS. That was one risk they weren’t willing to take. Quietly, Jill got up and rummaged around in the bathroom medicine cabinet. When she came back out, she touched Monty sympathetically on the shoulder. He turned and she handed him two small, white tablets. “Take these, Monty. It’s just Valium; it’ll calm you down without knocking you out.”

  “Thanks.” Monty didn’t need any coaxing. He took the pills from her and swallowed them without a glass of water to wash them down.

  Carter was thinking thought about the symbolism he experienced during his capture. The woman who injected him wore a mask, and the Silver Man said something about Galatea. Seacrest told him he thought she was Galatea and wanted to kill her for it. Essentially, though, most of it was a blur. If Monty failed to get the meeting videoed and wiretapped, the only way to bust them would be to raid them when they tried to kill him.

  Poor, Monty. He got a raw deal, lost everyone he loved, and had to run away to survive. If I lost Jill and Agent Deeprose the way he lost Arleen and Dr. Blake, I’m not sure I’d want to survive, but I do know I’d kill the bastards myself if I got the chance. Monty’s scared, but he wants this chance, and he should have it.

  Carter entered a comment to let the Silver Man know he and Jill both survived the night. Then he typed, “A man you know from the past is willing to meet with you to negotiate a deal tonight. Give me a time and place.”

  Before he could move the mouse again, the comment disappeared. Within seconds, he received a response. “We will text you the information. Have your man approach us alone. We’re no longer interested in you.”

  They read as fast as possible, knowing the words would evaporate again.

  “Not interested in me? Not much, they aren’t. I have the Burn List on my hard drive, printed out, in the mail, and right here in my brain!”

  Montgomery spoke in a whisper to Carter. “You may have the list in hard copy, e-copy and committed to memory, Agent Carter, but that still makes you a dead man unless they know it’s been mailed to the White House. That’s your only bit of life insurance.”

  “That won’t work, Monty. If I tell them it’s going to the White House, they’ll only have to add the president to the Burn List. Look, maybe if you tell them, it’ll derail them enough to cause an infight. While they’re screaming at each other, you may just get us what we need on tape and still be able to slip out of the place. What do you think?”

  Monty’s face lit up. “That’s brilliant!”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment and then, with a genuine smile, added, “You know, now that those pills have kicked in, I’m actually starting to enjoy my
self! Let’s go catch ourselves some bad guys, Agents.”

  ***

  Carter and Seacrest parked three blocks from the meeting spot. It was to be held in a section of the Brooklyn Navy Yard at a location called Admirals’ Row, which referred to a street lined with 19th century manor houses that were once used as quarters for naval officers. They were built in the architectural style known as “Second French Empire” and looked like mansions to Carter, except that they’d been abandoned so long ago that they cast only the merest shadow of their former stateliness. Carter was sorry the march of time had not spared their beauty. He found himself thinking that it would have been kinder to knock them down and remember them as they once were rather than leave them standing on their last legs for everyone to see.

  It’s like staring at a row of naked, rotting corpses.

  Carter fumbled around in a large paper bag for his coffee. He needed it badly. As he and Seacrest sat in an unmarked car, quiet and tense, Carter began to remember bits and pieces of the night before. He took a long, slow sip, intentionally scalding his mouth as punishment for what he did the night before.

  Jill nearly wore a hole in her jeans rubbing her hands back and forth on her lap. She was nervous and jumpy, twisting this way and that to see out of every window and cover every angle. “I hope you’re right about this.”

  “The wire attached to Monty is fitted with a G.P.S. tracking device. Fischetti will send back-up; I know he will. I’m still hoping he’ll send them in to help us, crazy as it seems...”

  Seacrest nodded. “Don’t forget he also has to protect the Galatea Initiative and keep it secret.”

  “The what? The Galatea Initiative? Where’d you get that from?”

  “You talked your head off in your sleep last night. Since you thought I was Galatea and that I had to die for it, I decided to do a little digging online before we left the apartment. I found out who she is, or was, rather, and put two and two together, but Monty was already on his way here. Too bad I didn’t think to look it up while he was still there.”

  “We have nothing to do until the fun begins, so enlighten me, darling. Who’s Galatea, and what’s the Galatea Initiative?”

  Seacrest warmed to the topic as well as her coffee. Her nervousness evaporated as she wiggled around to face him, pulled an old blanket over her legs and prepared to tell him a very interesting story.

  “She was the subject of a mythological tale written by Ovid, way back in ancient times. Galatea was a statue sculpted in the whitest of white marble and very, very beautiful. Her creator, Pygmalion, wanted the perfect woman for his bride, but none of the women in the town would do because they were real, Carter, and real people aren’t perfect. He scorned them all for being corrupt and false and then began work on Galatea to create his own vision of purity and fidelity. Pygmalion became so obsessed with his own work that he fell in love with her. His need for the restoration of his faith in love and women brought her miraculously to life.”

  “What does that have to do with the JASONS?”

  “Carter, they gave the project her name because they’ve fallen in love with their own idea because they’re convinced it’s a perfect idea! They see it as beautiful and noble and controllable. The Galatea Initiative is the heart of the JASONS’ new mission. They’ve set themselves up as the Creators of a new and perfect world, one without corruption or end.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “When they drugged you last night, they must have given you enough information for your subconscious to dredge back up when you fell asleep. The woman who wears the mask and goes by that name is meant to be an intentional reference to the story and their motive. I guess they couldn’t resist the opportunity to drop an obvious hint to prove to themselves how much more clever they are than the rest of us. Honestly, I don’t know how we could have missed it, and we wouldn’t have if we’d been up on our ancient literature.

  “This has been carefully thought out and planned down to the last detail for years. Years! And they must have a web of connections around the world waiting for them to make their move. With the kind of wealth and power the JASONS have, they can do it, Carter. They can bring the Galatea Initiative to life. We’ll never find all of their connections, and even if we did, there’d be others to take their place. I’ve racked my brain, but I can’t think of a way to get them to stand down, even with evidence and exposure.”

  Carter frowned. “Back up a little, honey. I have to get a handle on this. Did I happen to mention why they were using Hyzopran to study people and mind control to turn them into killers? And why make a Burn List? They can’t keep killing off the opposition and replacing them forever.”

  “The Burn List is just a band aid. They won’t need another one after this. By the time their operatives are ready to retire in twenty or thirty years from now, all newborn babies will have had Nano-chips implanted in their brain long ago. After that anyone could take over those jobs and still be completely controlled – and with zero violence and none of the problems Hyzopran poses. The drug was never intended to be used past this first round of assassinations.”

  Carter rifled a hand through his hair. “Jill, I still don’t understand why they’re testing the drug out on people and ordering them to kill if they can use technology instead.”

  “They needed to know, with one hundred percent accuracy, that Hyzopran would work now. The technology isn’t developed yet.”

  “But it doesn’t work.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. They must have made sure that the dosages were so high that the killers would make mistakes and get caught. There’d be no way to connect them or their drug use to the Collective, and even if anyone did sniff out the connection, Senator Pressman would’ve been the person of interest, and he only knew part of the plan anyway. By the time he was cleared, it would’ve been too late to look in any other direction. The cases would just go cold with the F.B.I. stonewalling the investigation every step of the way. The one thing they didn’t count on was us finding Monty.

  “They wanted the killers eliminated or in prison for life after their part of the job was done. Then, when it’s ready, they’ll use the Nano-chip for the next stage of the initiative. They obviously got the idea from Dr. Blake’s presentation. After they bought off Pressman and got him to be the one to turn down her project, they stole the drug from Meese and began using it on people. The Silver Man said they were testing it, but the test was not to discover Hyzopran’s efficacy; it was make sure it would fail just enough for the killers to be caught and still not remember a thing. If anyone went rogue, so much the better! That would’ve made the case for thrill kills even stronger. They knew anyone who found out what they’d done would never tell a soul and that those that resisted the drug and the programming would assume they’d had a bad nightmare. Neat and clean, Carter, but all criminals make mistakes, and theirs was in not realizing that Eliza would resist it but remember it, realize where it must have happened to her, steal it, go rogue, and then get caught. It’s her word against theirs, but more voices make for more circumstantial evidence, and we need all we can get.”

  “I told you all this in my sleep last night?”

  “Parts of it. You knew about the technology and the name Galatea. You also knew that the Burn List was the only one that would ever be needed. I figured out the rest after I did my research today. By the way, I’m the only one referring to it as the Galatea Initiative, but that’s exactly what it is.”

  “Did I tell you when this Nano-chip would be ready to roll?”

  “Nope, but you did know that they have some whiz kid on their staff who’s developing it for them. It could take years. All they have right now is a working prototype, but it still has to be tested before moving ahead with developing the implant. That was why they used you as a test subject. If you overdosed on the drug or they fried your brain with their thingamabob, well, you and I had to be eliminated anyway.”

  “Jill, did I say what the prototype looked l
ike?”

  “Yes. You said they put electrodes on your head, and then you heard white noise that sounded like a buzzing or humming. Obviously, though, it’s not ready for prime time. The use of Hyzopran to eliminate and replace all those people around the world was supposed to give them at least ten years to perfect the Nano-chip, but the scandals in the cabinet forcing firings and resignations and the threat of an impending impeachment has left them with no time to do it all. Because of our investigation, most of the assassinations were prevented, and they can’t assume the money and protection will last, either. That makes them desperate, Carter, and you know what that means…”

  “Yes, unfortunately I do. They have nothing to lose. It’s all or nothing, now.”

  “If we don’t get them now – and I mean the entire network - we won’t have a prayer of stopping them. They’ll take us out, make another list, and turn out that Nano-chip within months if they have to. Untested.”

  “We’ll use their mistakes and our own knowledge to our advantage. We have forensics on our side, too.”

  “But catching the whole network in time is impossible, Carter! We have no idea who they are, where they are, or if they’re in untouchable positions. Diplomats make the best spies, Carter, you know that, and they have immunity. Mistakes or not, they’ll find a way to regroup and refund. And we won’t be here to stop it.”

  “We still have a job to do, so whether or not we can plug up the hole for good, we have to try. Look, they used human test subjects who remember what happened. Red taped one of their meetings, which never occurred to them. Monty’s in there right now trying to get a confession on wire and video. We can both testify about what happened to me and how we came by the drug in the first place. Fischetti texted you in his office asking you to test the drug on yourself. That proves Fischetti only returned half the drug to the D.O.D. I have the Burn List and soon the White House will, too. Senator Pressman will sing like a bird to save his own ass when the shit hits the fan.