Case of the Lost Drone Ch. 03

Wow, I thought to myself, that was unexpected. "It's getting ugly in Washington, isn't it?" I asked. Muscone looked back at me.

"Don, I know not much gets by you, but I don't think you've realized the full scope of what's going on there, and in this whole country." Jack said. "The Powers that Be, the Establishment, the Elitists... they think they're on the cusp of winning, and they are out to annihilate the Grassroots, those that believe in the Constitution and individual freedom. And you, Don, somehow managed to get their undivided attention. They see you as a tremendous threat to their success..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I got home, I immediately sensed that something was not right. That was quickly confirmed when Carole came up to me sans dogs.

"Daddy," she said, "Mommy is sad about something."

I bent down, using my knees and legs to protect my back, and picked Carole up. "Why is she sad, Sweetie?"

"I don't know." Carole said as we went into the greatroom. My mom was sitting on a sofa, and Jim was building something with giant Legos under the supervision of Buddy. My mom just 'glanced' at me.

"Okay, where is Mommy?" I asked Carole.

"In the Puter Room." Carole said, meaning the little office room.

"Okay, you guys get ready for supper, and I'll talk to Mommy." I said, putting Carole down next to her grandmother. I headed towards the hallway, and saw an outstanding dog sitting on his haunches outside the half-closed door to the office. Bowser was just looking up at me with a 'Can we get a little help, here?' look. I reached down and petted him, then knocked on the office door and went inside.

Laura was sitting in front of her computer console, staring forward, a folder in front of her with a red-bordered 'TOP SECRET' label on the front of it. I closed the door to the hallway behind me, brought up my console chair, and sat down beside her.

"Is this because the CIA Director was forced to retire?" I asked. Laura came out of her seeming stupor and glanced over at me.

"That's part of it." she said.

"What's the rest?" I asked. She surprised me with her next question.

"When you were being tortured by Casey B. Walker," she asked, "did at any time you see my 'old mother' in your dream state?" (Author' note: See 'Dream Weaver' for the full story of the torture and dream state.)

"No, though the person they had me believing was you... could've been anyone, including 'Diana'." I said, naming the name that could not be named.

Laura nodded, then handed me the folder, saying "I should not be showing you this, but to hell with that; you need to see it." I took the folder, seeing the notation that this was compartmentalized under Operation 'BEEKEEPER'. I shuddered at the sight of that name.

I opened the folder and began skimming it. It was a nearly complete transcript of my torture, of what had been done to me with drugs and electric shocks, and the interrogation sessions... many that I did not realize had taken place, but were now correlating to parts of my dreams during that ordeal. And then I saw what Laura was asking about.

Indeed, the woman that I had been seeing in my depleted state as Laura had been the old woman that Laura had revered as a mother to her, a woman Laura had named her first child after. I could only imagine my wife's current feelings of shock, and betrayal.

Also in the folder was a note, which read: 'Get your husband in line, or we will.'

"Any idea who sent this?" I asked. "They're not supposed to send anything higher than SECRET in the mail." I also noted that the package had been mailed locally.

"I'm not sure exactly who sent it." Laura said. "The question is 'why?'. I don't know if that is a threat to you, that they'll torture you again if and when they arrest you, or if they're going to expose Company secrets involving me."

"I would say," I said, "that they are using psychology on you, and trying to mentally torture you in this unique way. They are trying to make you doubt all you considered good about the CIA and the people you served with in it. They are trying to split your loyalties, even though the Old Mother has passed away. And yes, they're threatening me, and I am getting tired of their shit."

And then I noticed that Laura was near crying. Her lip was quivering as she said "How... how could she do that to you? She knew you were my husband... how?..." The dam burst, and the tears flowed. I took my wife into my arms and held her as she cried.

"Laura," I whispered, "before you judge her too harshly, think of this... she was doing what she had to do for the country... she doubted me until she saw I didn't break. That had to happen."

"Not that way." Laura said bitterly. "And she did not have to be part of it, of what Walker did to you... and maybe to others..."

"I'll just say one more thing that has occurred to me." I said. "You told me that I was the only person who survived what they put me through... the only one." Laura nodded as I continued "I have always wondered... just how did I survive? Have you ever asked yourself how I was able to live through that long enough for you and the others to rescue me?"

Laura began understanding. She looked at me and said "I always thought you were just that good..."

"I'm not from Planet Krypton, honey." I said. "I don't have Superman pajamas, nor a stomach of steel. I was under for three days, three full days, with no food or water... and subjected to drugs that dehydrated me as well as fucked with my circadian rhythms. I'd lost control of my bowels and my bladder. Yet, when I snapped out of it, I was able to get up, activate that alarm, fight off two people and run out of the room. I never should have been able to do that. So... how did I survive?"

"I... I don't know..." Laura whispered.

"There is only one way, Laura." I said. "Someone gave me an IV at some point in time, water or nutrients, but someone gave me enough medical aid to keep me alive. And it sure as hell wasn't Casey B. Walker that did that. But someone did, and possibly at the risk of her own life. Maybe someone who wanted to save the husband of a woman she loved very much..."

Laura contemplated that for a long time. Then I said "Okay, we'll figure out this other shit later. Let's go join our family,and have dinner." Laura locked the file in the drawer of her desk, then we went to the main room.

"Mommy!" exclaimed Carole Diana. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sweetheart." Laura said, picking up her daughter and hugging her. "Are y'all ready for supper?"

"In a minute." I said. "First, sit down here." I led Laura to the sofa against the wall (the office room being on the other side of that wall), and had her sit down. "You went to School for at least eight years to learn psychology treatments. But I have a better one in one minute." I whistled, and the redoubtable Bowser bounded over. He hopped onto the sofa next to Laura and put his front paws on her thigh, and looked up at her with a silent command: pet me.

Laura did so. "Hey Bowser." she said as she petted the dog. "You're a good Police psychologist, aren't you boy?" Bowser wagged his tail mightily, pure love in his canine eyes. Therapy continued, and successfully, for several minutes as Carole and Jim 'helped' me and my mom set the table for dinner.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carole was a bit less than pleased when I began 'bedtime' procedures earlier than normal, but she stopped fussing when I said that Mommy needed to go to bed and get some rest, too. My mom went down to her MIL apartment after the kids and dogs were settled into their beds, then Laura and I went to bed, fortified by a few strong drinks.

I knew Laura wouldn't be in the mood for sex, so I just held her as we cuddled in a 'spoon' position in bed. We were like that, with the lamp light still on, when she asked "Don... I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What's that?" I sleepily replied.

"When you injected Hardwood with that drug," Laura asked, "when were you going to stop it?"

"I never was." I replied, truthfully. "If you had not have been there, for all I know I would still be there watching him writhing on the floor. I don't know when that drug would've finally killed him, or his heart would've given out and stopped... and I didn't care."

Laura nodded. "It's... interesting. The drugs Ned made should've lost their efficacy once the sealed bottles were opened. They should've been decomposing. It's very... surprising... that Hardwood was so strongly affected."

"Yes. Surprising." I said. "Maybe his guilty heart is what magnified his pain."

"Yes, maybe." said Laura. "Anyway, no doubt he got exactly what he deserved."

"Yes." I whispered, but Laura was already drifting off to sleep. As she began breathing more deeply, I turned onto my back and looked up the ceiling as I thought. Yes, Laura, Ned's drugs were losing their efficacy. I could see that when I injected Westboro: even his great mind should've been lost, but he managed to overcome the drugs enough to bite down on the cyanide capsule in his teeth, and end his agony by suicide.

So, more drugs were needed, to get the truth out of the torturers of Professor Milton, to deliver maximum pain to John Hardwood in whatever time it took for him to die, and I really was curious how long it would take. But Ned's drugs were gone, used up, and there were no more. The CIA and everyone else was looking for more, and never found them, so where did they come from? The truth, my darling Laura, is that those drugs were not compounded by my evil genius nephew Ned. They were compounded by me.

Yes.

I majored in Chemistry. I am my nephew's uncle. What he could invent and create, I could reverse-engineer, discover, and duplicate. And I did. I created a new batch of the pain-inducing drugs and the antidote for them.

And do you really believe that the CIA put me through that torture just because they thought I gave Priya classified information? No, of course not. It would've been better if they had not known I'd recreated Ned's formulas, but they somehow found out. And that is why they came for me, and subjected me to that torture. They wanted the formula so badly that even Laura's 'old mother' was willing to help them get it out of me. But I did not break. They failed.

Stupid to fail. Unforgivable.

And now, all this crap they are doing with the 'treason' charges and the harassment... do they think I don't see what they are really after? And sending Laura that file just confirmed it all. They're harassing her, threatening her and my family now... and I am now officially pissed off. They will find out: it's better to be pissed off than pissed on. And they are about to get pissed on...

Part 16 - Paper and Bullets

Saturday, February 10th. Lights and sounds and people gathering at places to party were evidence of the hustle and bustle of the City. And the sun setting early meant the parties starting earlier, as well.

U.S. Senator Samuel Russell was in Room 1822 of the Marriott Grande Hotel, the suite once used by the late Henry R. Wargrave. It had been a busy day. He'd met with State-level Republicans, including Lieutenant Governor Graham Collins. Plans for removing Val Jared as Governor were discussed. Russell knew that Collins was clutching at straws, that Jared was going nowhere unless he fucked up. And Jared had that redheaded pitbull with a crowbar preventing him from fucking up.

He'd met with high-level officials of BigAgraFoods, who were more than a bit upset with him. Not only had the secret programs been exposed again due to the Eldon murders, the Governor was raising illegal immigration issues again, riling up the Grassroots, and the BigAgraFoods people were openly questioning if their generous contributions to Russell had been mis-spent.

Then came the meeting with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce representative. The Chamber was openly pro-(illegal)-immigration, and paid for the ads of Republicans in order to make sure the Republicans remained broken to the Chamber's fist and supportive of Illegal Immigration. Samuel Russell was not doing his part, the Chamber's representative was saying. It was nothing short of a veiled threat.

"Look," he had said, "get Jared out of the Governor's Mansion, and I'll step aside and let Collins appoint my successor. But you know there's no way in hell we can allow Jared to appoint that successor; he'd appoint a Grassroots Conservative, and all of you would be fucked."

His reverie was broken by a voice: "Sir," said his assistant, a pretty young woman who could suck a golf ball through a garden hose, and practiced on Senatorial cock quite often, "the Cannon Building says they'll put security in place for you to look at the penthouse office suite tonight."

"Yeah, we might as well go ahead and do that." said Russell. The late Henry R. Wargrave's office suite atop the Cannon Building had not been rented out nor purchased since the billionaire's untimely death by allegedly falling out of one of the windows. (Author's note: 'Reichenbach', Ch. 05.) Russell was considering buying the suite, which included the top-floor offices and living quarters on the floor just below.

Inside his limo, he was attended by his lawyer. "That was a good job, taking care of my son's issues."

"Thank you, Senator." said the lawyer. "We're working on his transfer to City University. He probably should go this summer to catch up, but at least he won't have to go into that County again."

"Well, the Iron Crowbar will be taken care of, and soon." said Russell. "So if he can stay at the University, it would be better for him. City University sucks compared to our State's flagship Institution of Higher Education." The lawyer nodded as if in agreement, and said nothing.

They were driven into the underground parking garage of the Cannon Building. The Senator, his lawyer, and the limo driver got into the elevator that went in stages to the penthouse suite, hidden from all other elevators. "Where's my security?" asked the Senator, who preferred having his two bodyguards with him.

"Still at your office, sir." said the lawyer. "This trip is unexpected, short, and the Cannon Building has excellent security. Your guys stayed at the hotel to give the Press the impression that you are there."

"Harrumph." Russell growled as the elevator doors opened. A lovely blonde woman in her late thirties with a magnificent pair of legs met them in the anteroom. She was the real estate agent hired by Lilly Wargrave to handle the suite.

The woman first showed Russell the living quarters. They were spacious, with the outer walls of most rooms being the glass windows of the outside of the circular-shaped building. Then they walked up the flight of stairs to the office.

"Ah, impressive view, especially at night." said Russell as he looked around. The room was empty save for what had been Wargrave's desk. "Was the shattered window replaced with a bulletproof pane?"

"Yes sir." said the woman. "And security has been upgraded tremendously."

"That's good." said the Senator as he strolled to look out the windows looking west seeing the lights of the City flowing westward, and other skyscrapers to the southwest. To the northwest he could see the Airport. He wondered where The Woman had gone to, since her office had been polluted by the mortal remains of Thomas P. Cook.

"Well, it looks good." he said. "We only need to agree on terms-----" As he turned around, he stopped talking...

Standing in front of him was the Iron Crowbar.

Pure shock and fear coursed through him. His lawyer and his agent were gone. He was at my mercy. And I wasn't feeling very merciful right now.

I was in all black, with my khaki trenchcoat and Tilley Hat, and the red crowbar in my right hand. And the look on my face and the light in my gray eyes bespoke fierce determination... and anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Russell snarled, slowly moving himself towards the desk, as if to use it as a shield.

"I came to give you a gift." I said, taking a small booklet out of my coat pocket and holding it up in my latex-gloved hand. "It's a copy of the Constitution. You need to re-read it; you seem to have forgotten it's words." I placed the booklet on the desk between me and Russell. He looked at it as if I'd just dropped a turd in front of him.

"Now you listen to me, boy, and you listen good." snarled Russell. "The Constitution is just a God-damned piece of paper! The real power is in my hands. I'm a United States Senator, and you're not. All you little people can eat shit and die. Your little crowbar there ain't shit compared to the real power of Government!"

"I just have one question." I said quietly. "I'd like for you to show me where in that... piece of paper... that it says a United States Senator has the power... to outrun a bullet."

The Senator's eyes widened, and mostly in fear. Still, he tried to bluster. "Are you threatening me, Troy?"

"You tell me, Senator." I said. "My Police Captain outran an explosion; I consider her to be a badass. But you, a mighty U.S. Senator? Well, if you can't outrun the bullets I'm going to fire into your body, with the full intent to kill you, then I guess you're not as much a badass as you want me to think you are."

"And you think you're hot shit, Troy?" snarled Russell. "After the FBI arrests you, it's over for you. You'll never be seen alive again. You're finished, Troy. And this time, we're not going to play around. We're playing for keeps. We are going to wipe you out, and then tell the world you're a dirty traitor."

"That's why I'm here now, Senator." I said, keeping my voice low and menacing. "My wife was threatened today." I said. "I'm done with you and your shit, and that's a plural 'you'. You are thinking and hoping that I will be constrained by the law, though you think you're above it. But what happens... when I removed that constraint? If I have nothing left to live for, why don't I take you with me?... or your son. He hurt people while driving drunk, and you arranged to get him out of it. I have nothing but contempt for that, and I can do something about it. He'll die, too."

"We'll see about that." muttered Russell. "But if we have to trade his life to exterminate yours, it's worth it. We're going to destroy you fucking Grassroots shit eaters. We are going to rule you. And if you don't submit to our will, you will die."

"I admit, you and your Elitist buddies have pushed me into a corner." I said. "There's no way out for me... but I'm going down fighting like hell. And I don't mean through the legal system. I'm going to make damn sure you go down with me, Senator... so that Governor Jared can appoint a Grassroots Conservative to replace you until the special election."

Russell's eyes showed the sheer horror that he was feeling... and I realized that losing his son meant less to him than having a Grassroots politician replace him in the Senate. Wow. Just wow.

"And just to make sure you fully, completely understand," I said, "even if you do get me, I'll be avenged." I half-turned and pointed with my open-palmed hand. Russell gasped. Two persons were standing in the doorway. One was a very tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing a black suit, white shirt and red tie, shimmery white gloves and a shimmery white mask that covered his entire head.

Next to the Slender Man was a much shorter person, wearing a full monk-like robe with hood, and wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. 'Anonymous' was in our presence.

"And you think The Guardians of Justice are your biggest problem?" I said. "Just look at what we did tonight, just to get you here alone. You'll never stop all of them that will come after you, and your son."