Once the small living room was habitable, they settled in on the couches with beer, chips, and notepads.
“How do you know this is about mind control?” Spicer asked.
Weller shrugged. “Most plausible explanation.
That made Esther roll her eyes. “Of course.”
Shaking her head, she gulped down some beer. Spicer ignored her cynicism even though he shared it.
“Let me simplify my question, how come your e-mail address was in Harland Fry’s notes?”
“When I started suspecting somethin’ was wrong—”
“And how did that happen?”
“How did it happen for you? Can I go on with my story now?”
Spicer put up his hand, allowing him to continue. He ate some chips.
“When I started suspecting somethin’ was wrong, I posted some anonymous messages on some forums. Harland posted back. We talked about comin’ out with our story for a while but he kept sayin’ he wasn’t ready. But I knew we had to do it while we were still ahead. So I wrote the article.”
“You’re Stellar Oceans Corporation?”
“You got that far, uh?” Weller said, impressed. “Yeah, that’s the name of my yacht, it’s docked in the Bahamas.”
He reached for his wallet and produced a photograph of a sleek white 70-foot yacht. In fancy blue script, the name of the boat was visible on the stern: Stellar Oceans. He passed the picture around proudly like a mother would with pictures of her kids.
“Anyway, I had the New York Express-Ledger run the article although Harland begged me not to. He flipped out, I’m sure you know the rest.”
Spicer nodded and the man spent a minute explaining where his money came from. His grandfather had made his money in oil futures in the 70s, he’d cut out his bickering kids from his will, and a few years back Weller had gotten a sizable trust fund — and later, inheritance.
He continued. “Anyway, we had exchanged enough information that I became sure of what Anchises was about. Mind control.”
Spicer waved that explanation away. “CIA’s been involved with that in the 60s and 70s, that’s no secret.”
“Yes, Project MKUltra. That was destined to find new ways of conductin’ interrogation and surveillance. That was small potatoes, hypnosis, LSD, things like that.”
“Your article was about thought-reading.”
Esther was skeptical again. “That’s impossible.”
“That’s very possible. The government has been part of that since the late 60s. Hell, in 1974, a professor from Stanford University patented the damn thing! I got the patent number here somewhere…”
He started going through his notebooks, and then his briefcase. Spicer still couldn’t believe it.
“That’s… that’s just unbelievable.”
David gave up searching and looked at the former hitman. “Is it? First, they censored movies, then TV, the internet and their precious SOPA campaign. New gun control laws, paranoid customs regulations. The goddamn Patriot Act. And that’s just the stuff that makes logical sense. That’s the stuff the people runnin’ the show were able to make the politicians swallow.”
Esther slammed her can of beer on the table. “You think the government wants to install a totalitarian dictatorship? That would never work!”
“Look at it this way. There’s not an inch of US land that isn’t covered by one camera or another these days. There are spy satellites lookin’ down on us as we speak. There are remote controlled drones flying above us. The government can find out what any of us are doing at any given time. They know everything. What’s the next logical step?”
“Control,” Spicer said evenly. “Mind control.”
“Bingo.”
Chapter 24
This was completely surreal. Mind control?
“Thirty years ago they could read what you were thinking by pickin’ up the electromagnetic brain waves, similar to a polygraph. Imagine what they can do now. All they’d have to do is intercept brain waves and replace them with others.”
“I’m sure this research has been abandoned some time ago. We would’ve heard about that. I would’ve heard about that.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Weller conceded. “But it doesn’t mean it hasn’t taken on a new life.”
“Black project?”
“What do you know about your boss? That’s the real question.”
Esther sat on the edge of the couch. “So, let me see if I get this straight, some people want to turn this country upside down but they know they’d have a hell of a time getting away with it. So they’ll brainwash three hundred million people?”
“It ain’t as stupid as it sounds, ma’am. I think that the high frequency emission system that I been workin’ on, it could be used for that. They could hook it up to planes. In five or six years, I’m sure we’ll be able to incorporate it to a TV feed, cellular network, choose your delivery method. This thing could go down fast.”
“So that’s what you’re betting on,” Spicer said. “That’s what you’re risking your life for?”
“Yeah, but I got nothin’ solid. It’s all scraps of facts with some hypothesis. I go to the press with that and I’m just another looney out of his bin. I’ll never find work again, that’s for damn sure.”
He grabbed some files from his suitcase and put them in front of Spicer. “That’s all I got. I been tryin’ to make some sense of that stuff for a year and a half. I need more information.”
He and Esther turned toward Spicer. It occurred to him that they thought he was the solution.
Spicer walked down Calle Ocho with a new burner phone. People were milling about, tourists and locals alike, but no one paid him any attention. What he had to say to Ned made him feel cheap. He hated asking for help.
“Look man, as cheesy as it might sound, you’re my only hope.”
“You know,” Ned began, keeping his voice low as to not wake up his wife. “Princess Leia said that to Ben Kenobi and he winds up in another dimension. I’m not really tempted to go with you on that one”
“I’ve never begged much in my life, Ned. But I absolutely need to have Houseman’s file.”
“And I absolutely need to get blown more often. Everybody’s got their fantasy, man.”
Spicer nodded absentmindedly. It had been a long shot anyway. Still, he had to be more convincing.
“I thought you wanted to fly Hornets again.”
Ned stiffened. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m dead fucking serious. Once this thing is over, you’ll be back in the air. I guarantee you that.”
Ned remained silent at the other end of the line.
“Hell, aren’t you supposed to be this great big fearless warrior? Didn’t you single-handedly take down the entire Libyan Air Force?”
“Look, about that…” Ned exhaled softly. “I… I sorta only took one down. I was about to shoot down the second one when number three had me locked on. I panicked, I ejected. The two other guys got confused and ran into each other. I’m no hero, man.”
That actually made Spicer smile. “I’m giving you a chance to be one. I just need Houseman’s personnel file. You can e-mail it to me. You remember my address?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be checking my inbox every hour on the hour. I hope I find something. Be careful, buddy. Those guys get away with murder.”
After hanging up, Spicer didn’t go back to the apartment. He wanted to be by himself, he needed it. He loved strolling among the faceless crowd, the anonymity giving him power, making him feel like his old self again. He wasn’t good with people. In fact, he wondered why he was even jeopardizing his life trying to save others. What difference did it make to him if other people got killed?