Jonathan Creed

His smile was back almost immediately. I scanned my card and he waved me through. I heard him whistling a tune as I stepped inside the elevator.

The elevator closed.

I was alone again.

The solitude reminded me of what I was about to face.

That elevator ride was the shortest of my life.

All too soon the door dinged again, and I stepped out into the familiar space. People looking pale and splotchy worked monotonously in the bullpen. Phones rang, faxes were made, and everything was the same.

Or so I told myself.

Jim, who must have been eyeing the elevator waiting for me, quickly appeared in front of me.

"Jonathan," he cried, "Good god, it took you over an hour to get here."

I started to inform him about the bad traffic ... but he waved me off.

"Never mind, never mind ... the girls are late coming back in from the hospital anyway, and they've only just arrived." Jim took a big breath and checked his watch.

"Great Scott it's almost eleven thirty," he grabbed my arm and began tugging me back towards the elevators. "Come on, I'll brief you while we walk, I've told them to hold the meeting until you arrive."

He punched in the basement.

I stole a quick look at him. He looked tired, but determined. His blonde hair was a little messy and his suit didn't look ironed.

Strange, Jim was usually immaculately dressed.

The door dinged open.

The basement contained the secret briefing rooms. This is where large scale undercover assignments are discussed. This is where people who were considered 'in danger' spent most of their stay at Federal Plaza. If the girls really where in trouble from UniCORP, then there was no safer place on the premises.

At least until we could get them into witness protection.

Jim immediately started bustling down the hallway. I had to jog slightly to catch up.

"They're being kept in room eight, I don't know if the Federal doctor has come in to talk to them yet." Jim said over his shoulder.

"Why the need for an Agency doctor, I thought these girls all got checked out at St. Marks?"

I drew level with Jim just in time to see him rolling his eyes.

"Because Jonathan ... we couldn't simply tell the local doctors about the chips. All they got down in the public hospital was a quick check to find any serious conditions. Now our man has to get a good look at the chips to see if we can get them off."

I felt my cheeks flush. Usually I was the one who did the explaining.

"Right," I said.

Room eight was at the end of the hall. There was a security guard at the door, and we both had to flash our passes at him before he allowed us in.

All the rooms down here looked like classrooms. There were a couple plain desks that you might see in any university, all facing a podium and a dry erase board.

All in all, the last time I had been in this room it reminded me of a classroom at Harvard.

It was a bit different now.

It was more like stepping into a Playboy picture shoot.

Every single desk was occupied by a beautiful woman. They were of all shapes and sizes. I saw some girls that looked like they were picked up off a California beach, all the way down to Asian beauties kidnapped straight off the streets of Hong Kong.

They were all listening to a short fat balding man in a lab coat standing behind the podium. Jim and I tried to be as quiet as possible. We both leaned on the wall next to the door.

None of the girls had even looked our way.

The doctor seemed to be in the middle of his speech.

" ... the tracking devices, you'll be pleased to know, are not only removable, but will only require one easy surgery." He paused and gazed around the room, perhaps expecting to see some relieved faces. He saw none. All the girls looked exhausted ... he cleared his throat.

"Ah ... yes, however, with the actual neural processing units I'm afraid my news is not as good. They have been rather ... um ... deftly fused to your spinal cords. Removing them would result in the subject becoming a quadriplegic ... but ... fear not. My team and I are working on a special neutralizing agent. It will be absorbed through the pores like an intended DNA sample would have, except the solution should only have the affect of destroying the sensor instead of activating it. From what I can tell after studying of the chip, without an activated sensor, the chip is completely harmless."

At this there was a small audible sound of relief. A few of the girls broke down into tears, while others just quietly smiled to themselves.

"The solution is not quite ready, but I fully expect it to be functioning by tomorrow morning. In the meantime we will be setting up rooms 1-5 as field operating rooms to get those tracking modules out of your ankles ... and we um ... will be providing sterilized latex scarf's to wrap around your neck until tomorrow."

The doctor moved away from the podium. He took a brief look about the room, and shook his head. He turned and strode towards us.

"This is easily the most horrid thing I have ever seen." The doctor said.

"It's been hard on all of us, but I'll feel better once these women get their surgeries." Jim said.

The doctor turned to me. "I haven't seen you around son, you new to the Bureau?"

Jim coughed. "Um, Dr. Thompson let me introduce you to Special Agent Creed. He was the lead Agent on this case, and did very fine work."

Dr. Thompson paled a little. I politely offered my hand. He grasped it, and we shook hands. His hand was cold and slimy.

"Sorry Agent Creed, you looked so young I just presumed ... my, you have aged remarkably well."

"Pleasure to meet you doctor, don't worry I get that all the time." I paused. "I hope you're taking good care of all these girls I managed to rustle up."

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes very good care. Apart from being morally objectionable, this technology is really revolutionary. It was fascinating to work with the FBI on this case ... well for the most part."

Jim looked at him. "What's wrong doctor?"

The little balding man hesitated. "Well ... as I wrote in my report, there is one girl who had her neural processing unit ... well, um ... activated."

Jim nodded slowly. "Yes, I read that. You had her separated from the group."

Thompson gestured toward the door. We both took the hint and made for the exit. All three of us left room eight and found ourselves back into the entrance hallway. The security guard nodded to us grimly.

We proceeded down the walkway.

"Well, we did a bit more than just quarantine her." Thompson said sheepishly.

"Oh?" Jim said questioningly.

"Yes ... we um ... proceeded and removed her tracking chip, and we restrained her. She got a little violent at times. I had an understudy stay with her through the night and take notes on her psychological state of being."

"And?"

He withdrew a small pad of notebook paper from his lab coat.

"He took rather throughout notes, see for yourselves."

Dr. Thompson handed Jim the notebook, and Jim's pale blue eyes began frantically scanning the pad.

His face became pinched. He proffered it to me, holding it with the tips of his pointer finger and thumb ... like it was a snake or something particularly nasty.

I took the offered pad and glanced over the scribbling ... afraid of what I might see.

I couldn't read a lot of it; the understudy's handwriting was atrocious. But one part distinctly stood out in my mind.

It read: "She jumps against the restraints and begins to sob; she's been saying the same thing for the past hour now but she seems to be getting more and more distressed with every passing minute. She says; 'I have to find him, please, just let me find him, then maybe the headaches will stop ... please, I just want to find ... that's all I want.'"

Dr. Thompson was speaking again, but it felt like he was speaking under water. His speech felt slow and distorted ... and very far away.

"We've kept her in room two since she arrived back from the hospital ... but, well, we had to leave the restraints on."

Jim and Thompson came to a stop. I almost walked right past them. We were already outside briefing room 2.

Jim swiped his pass into the key card on the door. It unlocked with a click. He swung the door open, and moved inside, with Dr. Thompson following closely.

Like a man walking towards his own execution, I too stepped into the room.

-------

Chapter 5

She was as beautiful as I remembered.

Jim was listening intently to Dr. Thompson read things off of a clipboard.

But that didn't matter. Their conversation was lost to me. My entire consciousness was focused on the red haired angel tied to the gurney positioned in the middle of the room.

She was sleeping quietly. Her stomach rose and fell in a calm rhythmic manner. Her eyelids would occasionally flutter, and her slim pale face looked slightly pinched, as if her dreams were not gentle ones.

Dried tears clung to her face. Her flowing long hair was frizzy and tangled. She wore a little gown that hospitals gave out. This one had little flowered patterns on them, and tied at the back.

Jim asked me a question ... I didn't hear it.

I shook my head and looked at Jim.

"Sorry, what?" I said.

Jim used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the sleeping girl.

"Sorry Jim, I was somewhere else, what did you say?"

"The girl, John, the girl, Thompson says it's okay to wake her. I'd like you to talk to her; she's closer to your age."

I looked at the sleeping girl. She looked young. Maybe even teenager young.

"How old is she anyway?"

Jim took the clip board from Thompson.

"Her profile here says her name is Sarah Gale. She's nineteen years old and a resident of the United Kingdom."

"So we have a British teenager on our hands?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice.

"Looks like."

I swallowed hard. This would have to happen sometime, might as well be now.

"Wake her up Dr. Thompson." I said halfheartedly.

Thompson nodded.

He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a stick of Loxicodile. It was sort of like an old fashion glow stick. You bend it until you hear a crack. However, once cracked, a white gas pours out of either side, and when inhaled it could practically wake the dead. Policemen carry them in their belts these days to wake up drunks. They're called 'Jump Starters' on the streets.

Thompson walked cautiously over to the sleeping girl. He tenderly felt her pulse. Her chest continued to rise and fall; she was dead to the world.

I personally thought waking her up with Loxicodile was a bit extreme.

"Why do we need a Jump Starter to wake her? Couldn't we just shake her or something?" I asked.

Thompson shook his head.

"This girl isn't in an ordinary sleep. She passed out from over exertion."

Thompson cracked the stick, and little tendrils of smoke began to seep out. I suddenly felt very hyper and jittery simply from inhaling two feet away. I'd hate to feel a full dose of the stuff.

Sarah jerked awake. A small scream played at the corner of her lips, and her eyes were wild and unseeing.

Jim was looking at me expectantly.

He wanted me to comfort her ... It was standard procedure with trauma patients.

I slowly maneuvered myself past Thompson and positioned myself next to Sarah, who was breathing erratically, with her eyes half open.

By law I wasn't allowed to touch her without her permission.

"Shhh, Sarah. Shh. It's alright. You're safe now. You're in the FBI building in New York. UniCORP has been caught. They won't ever do what they did to you again."

There was a pause. I noticed her breathing slowed to a more normal pace.

Slowly she said. "I know that voice."

She spoke with a British accent that I didn't notice in the warehouse. It sounded upper class, as if she was someone out of those old movies about Victorian age England.

Her eyes opened fully, and she looked at me.

They were sparkling green. Like a field of grass during a bright spring day.

"It's you." She said weakly. Her lips played upwards into a slight smile.

"I'm glad you're here ... maybe the headaches will ... stop ... now..." Her eyes gently closed. Her face settled into a peaceful expression of content.

I nervously glanced over my shoulder at Thompson and Jim. They were both staring at me. Jim was the first to find his voice.

"Jonathan ... when you bought one of the girls ... you failed to mention that you bonded with one of them." Jim's voice was cold and icy. Very much like the voice he used during particularly troublesome interrogations.

I wished I could sink into the floor.

"Well, I didn't know at the time ... what they ... were ... going to do." I finished lamely.

Jim was cradling his hands in his hands, while Dr. Thompson, who looked more interested than horrified, was furiously taking notes on his little pad. Finally Jim raised his head and looked at me.

He sighed. "I have to tell Jones, Jonathan. You probably won't get into any trouble, but you'll probably be taken off the case. Great Scott! This is awful."

Suddenly he burst out laughing.

I didn't see what was so funny.

"I don't see how this is anything to laugh at Jim."

Jim was wiping tears from his eyes. "Well Jon, I was just thinking about how you are going to deal with this. I've never met a person more awkward around girls than you." His voice was strained. I could tell he was dying to have another good chuckle.

"Thanks Jim." I said sarcastically. At least he wasn't looking at me like some monster.

The chuckle burst through. He was laughing again. This time is was harder than before.

"Jon, buddy, in all seriousness you do have a tendency to be a bit of a mope."

"Let's go inform Jones together. I'm worried about what you might say. I might have to defend myself."

We walked to the elevator bank, John still plagued with laughter.

-------

Jones, unfortunately, was not amused.

"Agent Creed, you should have informed me immediately of your suspicions about the girl's ... what are we calling them?"

"Neural Processing Units sir." Jim supplied.

Jones shook his head. "Some scientist came up with that didn't they? ... Regardless. Agent Creed I'm taking you off the UniCORP case. In addition, you are going to apologize on behalf of the Bureau for what's happened to her. You're going to go back down there and talk this out with her. Tell her you're sorry for Christ's sakes and that it was just a mission that you had to play the part for. After that get out of here, I have to play PR with the media at four o'clock and we don't need you around here. Take the week off, you still have a month of vacation time stored."

I nodded.

Jim and I both made to leave.

"Special Agent Brown, stay awhile, I have more to discuss with you."

Jim gave me a pat on the back.

"Good luck," he whispered in my ear.

I walked out of Jones' office alone. They closed the door behind me. I trudged back to the elevators. Already trying to think of what I was going to tell Sarah Gale.

-------

Outside briefing room two sat Dr. Thompson.

As I approached, he looked up from his cell phone.

"Sorry Agent Creed, but I can't in good conscious let you talk with her until she wakes up. Her sleeping has finally regularized and she desperately needs it.

He pointed to a chair next to his.

"Make yourself comfortable."

I sat down next to him, and leaned my head against the wall.

-------

I abruptly woke when someone poked me.

Dr. Thompson was standing over me pen in hand, ready to poke again should the need arise.

"She's awake John. We've untied the restraints and she's sitting upright eating some lunch. I think this might be the best time for you to talk to her."

I nodded, and walked in without saying a word.

She looked much better than when I saw her last. Someone must have given her a comb, because her earlier tangles were brushed out. Her hair now was perfectly straight. It was a dark auburn color.

She was propped up by a couple pillows, still in her hospital gown. She had a tray balanced precariously on her lap, and was eating what looked like a giant salad.

I immediately felt awkward...

I decided to take a formal approach.

"Hello Ms. Gale, I'm sorry to interrupt you lunch. My name is Special Agent Jonathan Creed. I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, I'm sure that what happened in the warehouse was a very traumatic experience for you."

Sarah raised one eyebrow. "You work for the FBI? Why did you buy me?" Her English accent was fully recognizable now ... very upper class.

I cleared my throat. "It was the mission Ma'am, I had to get them to accept our account number so we could trace them. I was also given orders to buy a sample of the merchandise ... the um ... merchandise just so happened to be you."

She sighed. "My life is changed forever isn't it?" She sounded defeated.

I nodded slightly. "We need to put you into witness protection, UniCORP may come after you."

She was shaking her head before I finished speaking. "No, they don't want me. My chip thingy has been activated. They told me that it couldn't be switched off. They can't reuse it. I don't think they'll come for me."

"Then what do you mean? You are of course free to refuse being put into the protection service, but why? All the other girls have accepted it."

She set down her fork.

"You don't know what it feels like to have this thing in your head."

I was confused. "I know they said that you would feel certain things towards me, but I assure you, we will send you far away from me, you'll never have to..."

"NO!" She screamed. Her green eyes looked frightened. They were watering. It looked like she was about to cry.

"If you go away, the headaches will start again. The people who took me ... they said that if we tried to run away from our buyer we'd get terrible headaches ... the farther away we got ... the worse it would be."

I was at a loss for words.

I looked at her.

She was wringing her pale hands nervously.

She spoke. "I don't know how to feel about you ... part of me hates you. You've changed my life ... I can never go back to being exactly me again." She took a deep breath. "But I've got to have you close to me."

"We'll set you up with a safe house close to where I live."

"That won't work." She said.

"Why."

Her voice had a quiver in it. "Because I could feel the headaches when you were upstairs ... I can't be that far away ... I ... I ... have to live with you ... that's what they said..."

I started at her ... her entire body was shaking. I felt like I should rush forward and embrace her.

But I didn't.

Instead I said, "I'll see what I can do."

I turned, and walked out of the room.

Behind me, Sarah started sobbing.

-------

Chapter 6

Jones wasn't speaking.

I couldn't tell if the ability of speech had simply deserted him, or if he was thinking of something particularly scathing to say.

Suffice it to say, he didn't take my news well.

"Let me get this straight Agent Creed. Not only did you activate this girl's brain chip ... thingy, but now you tell me that she has refused witness protection and is insisting on living with you?"

I wanted to disappear. "That's about the size of it sir."

Jones exhaled ... slowly.

"Very well, Agent Creed. I am releasing Ms. Gale from custody, she may reside where ever she chooses. You needn't worry about bringing her to court to testify, we have at least ten other girls who want to see UniCORP go down in flames."

"Thank you sir," I said. This meeting had gone better than I expected.

Jones simply smiled.

"Oh don't thank me yet Creed, I'm also putting you on probation. You will answer tip line phone calls in the bullpen for a month for being careless ... as I understand, you came with such high qualifications you missed that little job. I think it only fair I not deny you the experience."