Altered Ch. 02

"How will we know that?" Tanya asked.

George interjected, "We are looking for males, most likely American that are ex-military. They won't be happy to be there. They will most likely be in pairs. They will be looking for a person and not interested in the site."

"The cartel will also not likely have anyone here normally. It would be like New Yorkers going to see the Statue of Liberty, so if you see any Mexican gangsters then... yeah that would be good to know also," I added.

There was a nice touristy observation building that had all kinds of signs to read about all of the history, geology and mechanics of the blowhole. Although the site was a national historical site, it was maintained by tourism, mainly from the cruise ships that would dock in Ensenada most days. The tourists paid a lot of money to get bused down there and shown around so of course it became more like a carnival atmosphere and less a typical national site.

I needed to find a way to hide in plain sight. Since I didn't have any Hollywood makeup artists handy, I had to find a quick way to camouflage my appearance.

I approached a vendor selling handmade pewter cross necklaces, [Spanish] "Sir, how much for the poncho and the hat?"

He looked at me like I was a little daft, "These señor?" he asked pointing to what he was wearing.

I made up a spiel about my wife wanting something authentically Mexican, it had to be used, the more thrift-store the better, blah blah. I knew it was kind of insulting but more importantly it was believable and the man wouldn't question it. He was a nice guy, he traded me for the new poncho and cap I was wearing, win-win.

The poncho was well worn and had stains and holes in it but it was clean and smelled nice, (the guy said his wife just washed it). The cap was a grey and white cap with a black trimmed M on the front.

I went over to a vendor selling some guitars. The cruise ship tourists loved cheap trinkets and baubles, but a lot of them were very wealthy and always on the lookout for quality merchandise. One vendor was selling a lot of different acoustic guitars and they looked great. He had classic guitars, flat tops, 12 strings and flamenco guitars. I had taken guitar lessons and was taught what to look for in a quality guitar. I could tell they were great but he was having a hard time selling them.

I asked him if I could try out the flamenco guitar and he reluctantly handed me a really nice piece. I made sure the guitar was tuned then started playing a rendition of 'Un Amor' by The Gipsy Kings. By the time I finished, I drew a crowd. Needless to say, the man made his sale, and encouraged me to continue. I got a two-foot tall turned over bucket to sit on and I kept my hat low so that no one could look at my face directly and started playing other tunes. I played Highway to Heaven in Spanish and people just gobbled it up. I got my hiding place - in plain sight.

La Bufadora had two semicircular walls outside of the observatory on the cliffs that overlooked the blowhole. The outer walls were closest to the cliffs and lower down, it gave the best view of the geyser, and there was an inner wall that you could view the geyser from. The inner wall was for people who didn't like getting wet as the geyser was known to spray people.

I wasn't a bad singer, my guitar playing made up for any fault in my voice and I stuck to more folksy songs where I could get away with voice cracks and raspiness. Just as I was trying my rendition of "Where did you sleep last night" by Leadbelly, Tanya let me know that they spotted someone that could be Irene Adler approaching the geyser.

I let Irene Adler pass me up and continue down to the geyser. I finished the song to the claps of the crowd and made as if to take a break handing the vendor his guitar.

"Tanya, be ready, if someone IS following they will be close by."

"Yessir boss," she said with sarcasm.

"You'd have a bigger crowd if you let me sing," I heard George say in the background.

George and I used to play together, he sang and played bass and I would play guitar. We loved trying to reinvent songs together and I'll never admit it to George but he did have a better voice than me.

"Yeah right," I said, "Did you hear that clapping?"

Sure enough, some unsavory looking characters showed up. George spotted them and noticed that they seemed to be communicating with someone. They hung back near the back vendors closest to the parking area exit. They were apparently going to lay in wait.

I chose this particular meeting place because of the crowds, and because there were no good sniping spots. But, I realized that they had us boxed in; I was expecting them to come straight at us, dumb. There was only one road in and out of there as La Bufadora was at the end of the peninsula. On the other hand, they didn't know Tanya or her car, but I still didn't like it.

Irene was a very beautiful tall black woman, she was probably in her early to late forties and had the disheveled look of someone stressed out and on the run.

I kept my hat low as I crept up behind her and pulled up to her right side, she was watching the geyser from the top wall vantage point. My small boot knife was pulled out and I put my left arm around her shoulder and my right hand pressed the knife dangerously into her side.

"Miss Adler, I presume?" I said using cheesy movie phrasing.

"Hello there Anthony, there's no need for that," she said looking toward the knife and holding out her hand for me to shake.

"How do I know that? You brought goons with you!"

"I had a feeling that might happen... Sorry, I had to risk it."

"Who are they?"

"They work for a secret society called 'The Illuminati,'" she informed.

"As in THE Illuminati?"

The blowhole suddenly blew extra powerfully and it distracted me for a second, Irene Adler punched down with a palm strike to my forearm. It surprised me and I lost the grip on my knife knocking it to the ground.

"That was real stupid, Nate," I thought.

Irene raised her hands showing both of her palms, she leaned down and picked up the knife by the blade and handed it to me. I sheathed it in my boot.

"You got skills, impressive. Who are you exactly?"

"I, like your father, work for a company owned by the Illuminati. I am a researcher mostly."

"Ok but what about those moves? Where did you learn that?"

"I was in the military straight out of high school, I used my GI bill to pay for college."

"Why are you here?"

"Your father sent me actually," she said. "We are part of a group of like-minded individuals that are trying to bring the Illuminati to justice from the inside."

"My father is an abusive alcoholic drunk, I watched him beat my mother nine times, last time I talked with him I had to kick his ass."

"Not everything is what it seems, Anthony," she said with a little sadness. I shook my head in disbelief.

"I know what I saw."

"Your father may be abusive but he is more than that. Your mother isn't exactly the virtuous motherly saint you think she is."

"My mom is a wonderful woman, she would never harm me, she loves me."

"Your mother isn't even your mother."

"What are you talking about?" I snapped.

"I know this is going to be hard for you to believe but let me explain," she said, patiently.

I shrugged and waved my hand for her to go on.

"You are a lab experiment, you aren't even human." She let that sink in before continuing, "Your mother works for a research company owned by the Illuminati. Your mother was a surrogate, you aren't even genetically related. As a matter of fact, the only blood relatives you have are the clones of you."

"If she's not my mother then who is?"

"No one really. Well, I guess you could say I am but not really," she said, scrunching her forehead as she tried to come up with the right words. "The truth is that I donated the egg that created you, but they modified the DNA within it and even the donor sperm's DNA was modified before in vitro fertilization. My egg was just used as a shell for the genetic material. Your mother wanted children of her own so she volunteered to raise you."

"OK... That sounds far-fetched... Tell me about the clones, how many clones are we talking about?"

"I don't know for sure, the clones aren't as powerful as you," she said looking at me with concern, "You are the strongest and the original. The alpha experiment. All of the ten sub companies that the Illuminati owned either used their research to create you or make you stronger whether they knew it or not."

"What do you mean by that? Why wouldn't they know they did research on me?"

"There are twelve research projects in all relating to you and your genetic code, and all of them were compartmentalized to keep anyone from reproducing the results. All of the experiments were purposely dependent on your genetic code. This is why you have clones, they need living beings that shared your genes to be able to do testing on before they tried them on you. That was their only purpose at first and most of them were destroyed after their purpose was fulfilled."

"Wait, so I have had these abilities since birth?"

"Not all, over the years as they have successfully completed experimentation on your clones they then applied those upgrades to you."

"I'm eighteen, wouldn't they need clones my age to do proper comparative analysis?"

"The other clones were grown abnormally fast to catch up to you. Often times they would mutate getting gigantism or dwarfism or they were grow extra digits on their feet or hands, things like that; Often they would go insane as their brain would not be given time to develop correctly. They were raised in a lab and treated like a lab experiments, no love, no nurturing, they are often nothing more than feral beasts."

"What about the upgrades, do you know what they were?"

"No, I can only tell you about what my department worked on. When someone discovered that telepathic talents were real, the Illuminati tasked our company with replicating them in other humans. They have the ability to read and control minds even alter memories, read and control emotions and move objects."

"So, I can use the Force?"

"Not really the same thing, faith doesn't make you stronger, you either are a strong psychic or you're not. One of your clones was altered to activate a special gland that we found in psychics called the empathetic gland. That clone ended up killing a few of the researchers and it took 50 men to take him down. The higher ups decided that it would be too dangerous for you to have those powers. They also wanted the ability to control you through mind manipulation, your memories as well as actions. However, your father found out and gave you a series of shots when you were younger that activated the gland, he wanted to protect you against them after what they did to you when you were six."

"So, I'm psychic?"

"You should be able to access the empathic gland yes, it's a matter of knowing how. Also, some of the upgrades take years to develop fully in your body, every day you are getting stronger."

"Wait, you still haven't said what they did to me?"

"I don't know the details, you'll have to ask your father but when you were six your memories were altered. I don't know any more than that really, sorry."

"So, do you know anything else? And, how do I use these psychic powers?"

She handed me a flash drive and said, "Here is as much data I was able to secure for you, it only explains about half of what they did to you, most of the data is encrypted, you'll have to figure out how to hack them yourself. Also, here is the IP address of the dark web portal that your father hosts," she handed me a sheet of paper. "You will need to download a Tor browser and VPN into the site with the user info I just gave you."

I read the sheet and pulled out a lighter and burned it.

Irene looked flabbergasted but I went on to explain, "I have a photographic memory."

"I see, I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

I took the flash drive hooking it to my phone with an adapter, uploaded the files to an encrypted ftp site, then I stomped on it.

"OK, so why are they after me? And more importantly who put a tracker on my Jeep?"

"You have been resisting their control over you. They would have never allowed you to come to Mexico. The Illuminati have trackers on a lot of your gear as well, not just your Jeep. Now you're in the news practically advertising their secrets, so they have to rein you in."

"How are they controlling me, do you know?"

"No idea really your whole neighborhood is probably planted full of researchers, I'm guessing they have psychics disguised as a neighbors, they would need one of them there at all times in case of an emergency. Look that's all I know other than more minor details we can talk about later."

"Ok fine... Now we need to figure out a way to get past those mercs."

"Yeah, I hope they don't have a psychic with them," she said.

"I think I have a plan to get past them, you're going to have to ditch your car though."

"That's ok it's a rental, I'll just report it stolen."

"Tanya, anything to report?" I asked through my Bluetooth mic.

"They are in the same spot they have been since they got here, they haven't moved."

"OK, you and George drive about a block away. We are going to try to distract the mercs and get past them and come to you."

Money can't buy you love or happiness; I don't know about that but they do buy mariachis. I walked over to a group of mariachis and offered them $200 dollars to go serenade the mercs for the next 15 minutes and 20 dollars for a mariachi hat.

The vendors were up against a wall looking over the cliffs, the wall was a sturdy cinderblock wall and was easy to traverse along the top.

"Irene, do you remember your Army training where you had to traverse across logs in an obstacle course?" I said as I leapt to the top of the 4ft. high wall.

"It's been awhile, and it was the Navy," she corrected.

"Time to test your mettle sailor!" I said, holding my hand down to her to lift her up. She refused my help and got up on the wall unsteadily at first, but soon it seemed old hat.

When we got close to the vendor tent that the mercs were near, the mercs seemed to be swarmed by tourists and mariachi singing to them.

"Aye, yai, yai, yai, canta y no llores..." the mariachi sung and surrounded the mercs serenading them as instructed. The mercs were befuddled and were looking around wildly trying to stay on task.

The mercs did not even notice us sneak past them on the backside of the tent. We dropped down off of the low wall and Irene donned her mariachi hat as a disguise and we quickly merged with the tourists heading down the street to their cars. A block away Tanya and George were waiting for us near the curb and we took off down the street.

"Keep your head down Irene, they were communicating to someone there might be more of them down the street," I said, quickly ducking down low myself.

*******

The bar was well lit, sunlight was beaming in from high set windows near the roof. It had high a ceiling and looked like it might have once been a garage or storage building of some sort. The tables were all steel and circular with accompanying steel chairs. The floors were polished concrete and it had an industrial look to it almost spartan. There was a rolling mini bar in the middle of the floors and all of the tables where surrounding it to make a kind of stage in the middle of the room. There was an overly friendly Mexican man, probably college aged, with slicked back hair wearing a microphone headpiece. His voice was amplified through the speaker system and he was teaching us all about the differences between Agave plant drinks and how tequila was the lowest grade and there were differing tequilas based on aging, amount of distilling etc.; I wonder if he got a commission from a tequila council for this.

"Now take your shakers and shake them like so..." and our instructor poured the contents into a frosted glass. "This is called a michelada."

We had decided to attend one of the cruise ship excursions at a local bar, the cruise ships would sell tickets to attend them for $100 a person, but you could also pay a fee at the door if they still had room. Essentially, the bartenders would teach you how to make a bunch of tequila-based drinks. It was great excuse to keep drinking during the day and have a story to tell to go with your Facebook posts. For us it was a good place to duck out of view and talk.

"What do they want [Illuminati]? What purpose do I have?" I asked.

"I'm not totally sure but it is definitely nefarious, they obviously are breaking a bunch of laws and using armed henchmen to enforce their will, good guys don't do that. They have infiltrated most of the world's governments. I know they are deeply imbedded in the US, Germany, France, Turkey to name a few that I know about. If I were to give it my best guess I would say that they are looking for immortality."

Tanya and George were having fun and looked to be a bit tipsy already. It probably didn't help that I gave them my drinks after I made them.

"How would it help them to be immortal if he is the only one that lives forever?" George asked.

"There are many ways to be immortal, they could be immortal by keeping their society alive, maybe they want him to be a breeder. If your children or grandchildren are immortal you are too."

"Maybe they want to transfer their consciousness into his brain," Tanya interjected.

"Well I wouldn't put it past them but that seems a little farfetched, but then again this whole thing is really."

"Why are they making you into a weapon? The abilities they gave you are combat related. You are faster, stronger, more agile, faster reflexes and you can heal any wound... the perfect soldier," George commented.

"Why make me... umm... you know... horny all the time?" I asked.

"Yes, well you told me that your libido is through the roof and you somehow affect women's libidos, right? See you are a totally different species that can procreate with humans to create a stronger hybrid species. This suggests that they want you to replace the human population. Perhaps their intentions are altruistic and they just want to force humans to evolve... that would explain why they made you so smart... usually smart soldiers are harder to control... I don't know, I'm guessing their intentions. A lot of what you need to know was on that flash drive... your father might know more also..."

"I hate my father, but you are right, I might have to talk with him eventually but..."

"You want to figure things out on your own, you don't trust me..."

"Would you, if you were me?"

"No, I suppose you're right."

"You didn't look at it?"

"The files? No, your father gave that to me right before I left, I didn't have time to look and I guess I was a little scared to know more... I don't think it matters anymore, I'm a target now."

The bar filled with the brilliant light from outside as four men walked into the bar. Most of the class was busy taking a shot of Mezcal to taste the difference in agave drinks, but my eyes immediately focused on them. They didn't belong there; their necks and faces were tatted up and their eyes told the story of what it's like to lose one's soul.

I poked Irene under the table but in her tipsy state she didn't take the hint well and asked "What?"

I brought my hand up from under the table and resting my palm on the table I lifted my index finger and pointed at the men.

She looked over and suddenly sobered up. They were hanging around the edge of class near the far wall to us and were obviously searching for someone. I don't think their eyes fully adjusted to the difference in shade from outside to inside. I quickly got up and hid behind a pillar and Irene ducked down under the table.