by Laurel Dewey
Jane could see him spiraling out of control. “Slow down, Monroe. It’s okay. We’re not in any rush here.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I gotta show it to ya,” he mumbled, continuing to lift up stacks of documents in his quest. “Mary had a little lamb…” he said to himself, as if the words were a comforting mantra. “Mary had a little lamb…Ah!” he shouted, crossing over to a wall across the room. Removing the pegboard, he uncovered a metal plate with a lock. He brought a pick out of his pant’s pocket and expertly picked the lock, opening the metal plate and bringing out the few contents from the secreted hole.
“You always carry a pick in your pocket?” Jane asked Monroe, as he returned.
“Of course,” he said offhandedly.
“Why don’t you have the key to that lock?”
“It got stolen when I had a break in. I have a lot of break ins. I’m real popular,” he said with a strange guffaw. “Ha! Not really!” he quickly added as he started to rock back and forth.
Harlan leaned toward Jane. “We got a key in my bag of tricks.”
“Ha!” Monroe shouted. “Bag of tricks! I like that.”
“No, he’s right, Monroe. It’s an old key but we don’t know what it belongs to.”
“Well,” Monroe replied, still rocking back and forth, “I’m sure it doesn’t fit that lock. I ain’t accusing you two of stealing it from me! I wouldn’t do that!”
Jane reached over to him and touched his arm. He jumped as if he’d been shocked. “It’s okay, Monroe,” Jane assured him.
“You can’t touch me like that!” Monroe stated, pulling away from Jane.
“I’m sorry.”
“I got triggers, you know? You gotta watch out for them. My mind’s got a lot of buried land mines.” He continued to rock back and forth gently, staring at the postcards in his hands. “No, I know, I know, I know. You don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t have it in you.”
“Have what in me?” Jane asked.
For the first time since their short meeting, Monroe made eye contact with Jane that was meaningful. “The…ev….ev….evil,” he stammered.
“You’re right. I don’t. And neither does Harlan,” she said, pointing toward him.
Monroe smiled broadly. “Harlan? Ha! Oh, wow. What a name, man. Nice to meet you, Harlan.” He held his hand out to Harlan who grasped it tightly. Monroe didn’t let go as he stared into Harlan’s eyes with a mixture of sadness and disbelief. “Oh, God, man,” he whispered as tears welled in his eyes again. “I miss you. It’s a fucking jungle out here without you.” He tried to manage another smile. “Capisci?”
Harlan never took his eyes off Monroe and seemed to understand him. “Capisci.”
“What do you have there?” Jane asked, pointing to the postcards.
“Oh, yeah! Right! You gotta remind me sometimes more than once. I have a little problem, you know? My head? It’s all jumbled. Too many different people hidin’ out in there, you know? Ha! But I know I can trust you. I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t of told me about you.”
“I’m not following you,” Jane said calmly, doing everything possible to not rile him.
“I’m not following you either! I’ve been right here the whole time! But that’s not to say they ain’t out there, ya know? Followin’ us? Watchin’ us? Listenin’ to us? I don’t sleep a lot but I hear ‘em in my sleep, ya know?” He turned to Jane. “You hear ‘em in your sleep?”
Jane knew from past experience that when you indulge the psychosis, the psychosis always wins. But somehow, she had to figure out how to uncover the truth that was buried beneath the insanity. “Yeah. I do. But I don’t know what it means. That’s why we need your help.”
Monroe became very serious. “I know you need my help. And I’m here for you.” He turned to Harlan. “Whatever you need. You can stay here for as long as you want. I got enough food stored away for the Apocalypse. I’ve always been here for you, man. You know that.” He seemed hypnotized suddenly.
“Monroe?” Jane said in an attempt to jar him out of his trance.
“What?”
“The postcards?”
“Right! We’d send postcards back and forth to each other. And we’d collect ‘em too, wherever we went. Real low tech, considerin’ right? But it was so low tech, nobody caught on. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Yeah. Crazy,” Jane offered. “Can I see the postcard?”
He nodded. “It’s this one,” he handed it to Jane.
The card showed a portly farmer standing in his field. His head was bald and he wore denim overalls with a flannel shirt. She showed the postcard to Harlan.
“Damn, Jane,” Harlan murmured. “This photo looks kinda like me right now.”
“Well, of course it does!” Monroe exclaimed. “That’s what he was trying to tell me when he gave it to me.”
Jane leaned forward. “When you say ‘he,’ let’s be clear who we’re talking about.”
Monroe sat back, confused. “Gabe! Who the hell else would I be talking about?”
“And he gave you this postcard for what reason?” Jane asked.
Monroe stared at Harlan. “So I would know him when I saw him again.”
Jane’s head spun. “Hang on a second. That’s simply impossible.”
“You never met Gabe, did you?” Monroe quizzed her.
“Not in the flesh, no.”
“Well, if you had, that little postcard is just the tip of the iceberg! Ha!”
Jane glanced down at the farmer’s image on the postcard. It didn’t add up. It was clear to her that, for whatever reason, Harlan was given Gabriel’s heart at the last minute. The entire thing seemed like a spontaneous decision by the surgeon who performed the transplant. But instead of it being an unplanned selection, as she believed, here was a nutcase telling her it was actually providence that stepped in. And the whole thing had seemingly been predicted before it happened.
She leaned forward, handing the postcard back to Monroe. “You realize that Gabe is dead, right?”
Monroe smiled, showing plenty of teeth. “Yeah, right.” He winked toward her in a dramatic manner.
“No, Monroe,” Jane counseled. “He really is dead. He was killed nineteen months ago and they transplanted his heart into Harlan’s chest.”
“Wow. That’s fucking beautiful, man.” He looked at Harlan with awe. “And that’s exactly the way he would have done it too.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked. “You’re saying he planned this?”
“With Gabe, nothing is off the table. He may not have planned it ahead of time, but I guarantee you, he had a guiding hand in it after they took him out.”
Jane felt like she was swimming inside a disturbed mind and trying to stay afloat. “How could he have a guiding hand, Monroe? By that point, he was on life support.”
“Oh, life support? That’s even better. His soul was cruisin’ ‘round that hospital looking for the right fit.” He held up the postcard with the farmer. “Looking for the guy he already met.” He leaned forward toward Harlan, speaking in a tone that inferred confidentiality. “You know, I bet he hung out with you afterward to make sure you were okay. That’s the kind of guy Gabe was.”
Harlan nodded. “He did. I thought it was a cop sittin’ by my hospital bed. But it was him, wasn’t it?”
“Ha! A cop! Love it! He’d laugh about that! Oh, yeah, it was Gabe. No two ways about it. It’d be just like him to watch over and protect his new vehicle.”
“His new vehicle?” Jane asked with an incredulous tone.
“Yeah!” Monroe replied, seemingly more relaxed by Jane’s presence. “And what a vehicle he chose!”
“Why do you think he picked me,” Harlan asked, becoming more intrigued.
“It was destiny, brother. You betcha! Gabe talked about destiny with me, among many other things. He used to
say, there’s fate, destiny and karma. Fate is the son of destiny. Destiny is written in stone but fate is more forgiving and can alter based on your deeds. Karma is what you earn based on how well you accept your destiny. But in the end, time, God and karma tend to solve everything.”
Jane took it all in. “That’s not exactly the type of conversation that an assassin and his…assistant…typically have.”
Monroe didn’t seem offended by the reference. “Oh, I know that! I’ve worked with a few shooters during my time with the group and Gabe was head and shoulders above all of them.”
“Can I ask you when he got into all this stuff?” Jane inquired.
“I think it was always there inside him. But when he left the group, he started taking it more seriously.” A profound calmness came over him. “He stepped away from this world and spent three years hiking and walking on foot, hitching a ride when he could, working odd jobs, doing seasonal work. But for the first nearly five months, he went into complete isolation. When he came out, I was the first person he looked up. He told me he’d been holed up all winter in a cabin that was off the grid. You have any idea what it takes to do something like that? But he did it and when I heard from him again, he sounded totally different. He said he started eating only raw foods. And I’m not talking vegan shit, man. He was still eating meat, but it was raw meat. Even raw eggs!”
Harlan shot a glance toward Jane.
“I thought he’d gone off the deep,” Monroe continued, “but he was saner than anyone out there. Gabe said when he left that cabin, he felt like he was part of the earth again. He said he was purified. He called that shack ‘his desert,’ and he emerged from it a new man. He told me he was ‘rehabilitated.’”
Harlan turned to Jane. “What’d I tell ya? Didn’t I say this heart was ‘rehabilitated’?”
She nodded. “Yes, Harlan. You certainly did.”
“It’s true, man,” Monroe interjected. “He proved that he couldn’t be broken by them. He had mind-bending abilities before he left the group but after that, he honed those gifts with razor-sharp precision. He used those gifts when he needed to during his sabbatical and it made him much more powerful than they could ever wish to be. When they figured that out, they had to kill him because you can’t have anyone on this planet more powerful than they are.”
“Wait a second. That can’t be the reason they took Gabe out. I get that he had ‘mind-bending’ abilities. Wouldn’t that be a useful skill for his covert employment, instead of a detriment? You don’t kill a man simply because he has a unique gift that other soldiers don’t have.”
“You kill him if you see that man as a threat!” Monroe relaxed a little more, seemingly comforted by discussing his dear friend. “Gabe was a student of the mind and how far you could push it. Maybe they were afraid of all the things he was able to see. You know? Not just the behind their curtain, but behind the veil? Know what I mean? Or maybe,” he offered, seemingly trying to dive into Gabe’s thought process, “he worried that somehow his abilities could be manipulated for their benefit. Maybe they could fuck with his head and rewire it somehow, making him a truth teller of what world leaders were saying behind closed doors. I realize that sounds a little sketchy, but the possibilities are endless with these people. If you can dream it, they can build it and make it happen with better precision than the sun rising and setting. They have access to the greatest minds on this planet. I kid you not. If you even knew some of the rooms I’ve walked into and the people who’ve been in those rooms, you would shit your pants.” He paused, taking a breath. “Look, Gabe was never a company man. Even when he was embedded in a job, he was his own man. His allegiance was only to himself and those he trusted and cared about. He’d protect you and guide you toward the next place, even when you thought it was all over and your number was up. He was the guy you want at your back because he knew. He knew how to keep you safe. And when you have got nothing and you think the gig is up, feeling safe is priceless. But maybe they thought he was too much of a loose cannon. If he didn’t like what you were doing, he let you know about it. He never backed down from any fight. If anyone could do it, Gabe would be the one to fuck up their ability to keep their secrets. Loose cannons are only effective when they hit their target. If you can keep them from doing that, you win. Problem solved.”
Jane leaned forward. “Look, Gabe obviously discovered something of great importance. Their greatest asset turned into their greatest liability. I think he wanted to expose something he uncovered. I mean, there’s a limit, right?”
“A limit?” Monroe asked.
“Yeah. A limit to what a truly honorable person will agree to do. Even the most courageous soldiers who have seen and done everything have a line they don’t cross. It’s different for every single one of them, but if you’re the least bit human and your soul hasn’t been destroyed, there are places you won’t go, no matter what somebody orders you to do. Based on what you’ve told me and what I think I know about Gabe to this point, I have a feeling that his murder was directly related to some plan he was going to disclose.”
“Well, hell, what’s that got to do with his heart ending up in another man’s body?” Monroe asked.
Jane sighed. “I don’t have a fucking idea.”
Monroe pondered. “Maybe, it’s not one thing. Maybe what Gabe knew and the heart transplant were two separate things?”
“They have to be connected, Monroe,” Jane stressed.
“Why? ‘Cause that’s the way you want to control your investigation?” Monroe shook his head. “You need to open your mind more and explore the options here.”
“I don’t have time to do that!” Jane argued. “For all I know, Romulus is already onto us.”
“Hang on, you don’t have time to find out the truth?”
“Jesus!” Jane exploded. “You sit there and act like I’ve got a task force behind me, helping me sort out the minutia. I don’t even have a fucking office! I have a van with a laptop and two disposable cell phones. If you know something that will help me decipher this mind fuck of a case, please share it!”
Monroe thought long and hard before he spoke. “Gabe got into exploration of the levels.”
“The levels?”
“Of consciousness,” he replied as though it was obvious. “That’s the future, man. Forget space exploration. The mind is the next frontier. You want real power in this world? Own your own mind. Exploring the mind is a person’s God given right. And that ain’t easy to do when everything around you is programmed to destroy it. I’m telling you….consciousness and how to manipulate it is the future. That was Gabe’s passion. He tried to teach me all the different methods he learned. Mediation, sun gazing, moving a pencil with just your mind. I never figured out how to do that one.”
“But Gabe did,” Jane assumed.
“Yep.
“Wow,” Harlan said in wonderment.
“But,” Monroe continued, “he always said there was a dark side to the coin.”
“Like what?” Jane asked.
He hung his head. “Most of what he said I don’t understand—”
“I don’t give a shit. Just repeat to me what he told you!”
Monroe appeared to pull up the conversation from an old file in his brain. “Consciousness can be corrupted for someone else’s gain.”
“That’s it?” Jane asked, her irritation growing.
Monroe focused and gradually recalled the information. He spoke as if he were in a trance. “The heart of a person’s mind can be corrupted, exploited and manipulated in order to gain power for those who don’t possess the heightened awareness.”
Jane let it percolate. “The heart of a person’s mind,” she repeated. She remembered the old man from her vision who held the white binder with IEB written in the front. The heart and the mind, the old man stressed to her. The chances of that strange reference and now this informati
on nearly coinciding had to have value. “What does that mean, Monroe?” She leaned closer to him. “Come on. Go deep.” She felt a moment of angst, acting like a handler and forcing this delicate soul to tromp across his already traumatized mind. “Pull up the information. You can do it.”
He willingly took several shallow breaths as if “go deep” was an order he never refused. When he finally spoke, it was as if he was reading the words in the air. “He said knowledge might be power, but higher consciousness is the gold standard for acquiring that power. When you have the ability to see a lie or hear a truth simply because your mind is wired to receive that input, you have massive leverage over somebody else who doesn’t possess that capability.” He hung in the ether, reciting from a script only he could see. “The fruits of consciousness cannot be reserved for the few who believe they are owed that gift.” He emerged out of the trance and turned to Jane with fear tracing his face. “Gabe wanted to leave a legacy. But more than anything, he wanted to stop those bastards.” He looked at her with terrified eyes. “Whew! It just got hot in here!” Monroe exclaimed. “You feeling hot?”
“No,” Jane said.
“Jesus! I feel like I’m on fire.”
Jane needed to keep him on point. “How was he planning on stopping Romulus from what they were planning?”
Monroe got up and opened a window. “I don’t know and that is the truth. But Gabe never set out to do something he wasn’t going to finish.” He stood in front of the open window and let the cool air hit his body. “Romulus has their hands in a lot of pots. Private military contracting is just one division of the group. Basically, if you know about it, they’re involved in it. And if you don’t know about it, they are still involved in it. Ignorance of something does not prevent it from still operating on full tilt.” He turned to her, lifting his t-shirt to cool off. “Gabe and I saw and did a lot of things during our time together. I hope when it’s my time to leave this world, God understands that everything he and I did was because we didn’t know the whole story and because we didn’t have any choice.” He sighed as he leaned against the wall. “When they’re feeding you those frequencies 24/7, it’s hard to not be under their thumb.”
