Flash : Out Of The Blue

Flash 02: Career Change

 

The following was inspired by an email from a reader. To fully understand the context of what is happening here, I suggest you read the first part of this story, here.

This story contains elements of sci-fi and mind control. I have chosen to put it here after a number of comments suggesting I keep the whole story in one area of Literotica.

My apologies for taking so long to get this part of the story up. We’re doing a major remodel on the house, and my writing time has been severely hampered.

Many thanks to QuantumMechanic1957 for giving this a beta read. His suggestions have made this a much better story, in my opinion. I would also like to thank those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper…

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama…

…

The end of Flash 01: Out of the Blue

“Well, hello, Mr. Drake,” she said. “You’re looking rather chipper this morning. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” I said.

“I see you came by to talk to your wife,” she said. “We’ll be moving her in a day or two.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“So, what can I do for you today?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight,” I said.

“Dinner? Is that all?”

“Well…” I began.

“Just so you know, I don’t sleep with married men,” she said, pointing to my wedding ring. “Unless, of course, they happen to be married to me.”

“Of course,” I said. “I just thought it’d be nice to have dinner with a friend, a way to say thanks for helping me recover.”

“Okay, friend, dinner and maybe a drink or two to say thanks would be nice. But that’s all. I get off at five. You can pick me up at six,” she said. “Here’s my address.” She handed me a slip of paper with her address, which I put in my pocket.

“I’ll see you at six,” I said. We said our goodbyes and I headed out. Yes, I thought, things are looking good.

…

And now, Flash 02:

My name is Cameron Drake — “Cam” to my friends and family. It’s been a very hectic three months since my wife, Ginger, fell into a coma after an accident caused by her immediate boss, Chad Wheeler. Ginger is still in a coma, so I come by the hospital every day after work to sit with her for a few minutes.

I sat next to her bed, her hand in mine. I tried desperately to make some contact with her, but there was nothing. I was reminded of the saying, “the lights are on but no one is home.” Yes, she was alive, but that was it. Her heart was beating, she was breathing, and her body continued to function. But whatever it is that made Ginger, Ginger, wasn’t there.

At the time of her “accident,” we were “this close” to divorce. I had even spoken to an attorney and had a post nuptial agreement drawn up after being informed of what I would face in a divorce. I had learned that she had been involved in a seven-month long affair with Wheeler.

Actually, it was much worse than an affair. He blackmailed and drugged her in order to use her as his whore. As time went on, she began accepting her role and had been used by a number of men, including members of her company’s Board of Directors and more than a few of their clients. At the same time, she was treating me like crap, making my life a living hell.

I learned the depth of her betrayal after I had been accidentally struck by something that drastically altered my DNA. At first I thought it was lightning, but I later found out it was something else. As a result of that, I developed strange mental abilities, one of which was the ability to “download” memories into my head, which could later be exported to an application on my computer that allowed me to review them.

I could also “hear” thoughts of people close to me and could tell at a glance if someone was being deceptive. Under certain conditions, I could also use my abilities to defend myself and control the actions of others. That’s what I used to get my vengeance on Wheeler.

Since then, the two strange men who gave me those abilities — men I now called “Smith” and “Jones” since I didn’t know their real names or even if they had Earth-like names — had been training me to use my abilities more wisely. They had been coming by the condo once a week over the last three months, putting me through my paces. They even had the nerve to assign homework.

I also took the time to enroll in martial arts, at Smith’s insistence. He said it would help me become more disciplined, more focused, and less prone to strike out in anger. Turns out he was right, but my body has been in a near-constant state of pain ever since.

The bodies of Wheeler and the two goons I took out that night in Riverside Park never showed up. About a week after that confrontation, I got a visit from Detective Black. I expected to be cuffed and hauled off to jail, but I got a surprise the night he came by the condo.

“Detective,” I said when I answered the door. “Please come in. What can I do for you?”

“I have a couple questions for you, Mr. Drake,” he said. “First off, can you tell me where you were last Friday, say, from about 10 pm to midnight or so?”

“I was here,” I said, lying my ass off. “And before you ask, no I don’t have an alibi. I was alone all night.”

“Did you speak with Chad Wheeler that night?” he asked.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did, Detective. I was drunk, pissed off and I called him. Why?”

“I spoke with Lisa Hall, his assistant. She told me you called him and wanted to meet him at Riverside Park. At midnight,” he said.

“No law against that, is there?” I asked.

“No, there’s not. It’s just that no one has seen or heard from him since. We found his car at the park, but no trace of him. Nothing. Nor has anyone seen these guys,” he said, pulling out two photos. I recognized them right off as Antonio and Steve, the two goons he had with him. “You recognize these men?” he asked. I shook my head.

“No, Detective. Who are they?”

“The curly-haired guy is Antonio de Blasio. The other guy is Steven Scroggins. Both of them are hit men. Scroggins also happened to be an informant. He was helping us put together a case against Wheeler and his associates.” I felt a bit bad about Scroggins, since he was helping the police take Wheeler down, but at the same time, he was about to shoot me when I took action.

“Well, I don’t think a computer guy like me could stand up against Wheeler and two experienced hit men, do you, Detective?” I asked with a slight smile. He smiled back. “Seriously. Look at me. I’m just an average guy. If I had gone there, it looks to me like I’d be the one you would be out looking for, not them.”

“I suppose you have a point there, Mr. Drake,” he said. “Have you heard from Wheeler since last Friday?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why did you tell Wheeler you wanted to meet with him? What did you hope to accomplish?”

“Like I said, Detective, I was drunk and pissed off. At the time, I thought about kicking his ass, but I passed out shortly after I called him,” I said as he wrote in his pad. I heard him say “bullshit” in his mind as he scribbled his notes. He clearly didn’t believe what I was saying, but he had no evidence to the contrary.

“Did you ever consider what he might do if you didn’t show up at the park?” he asked. I shook my head.

“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, Detective. I was drunk, remember?” He continued writing, but I could tell he was having a hard time buying my story. I decided to get him off track just a bit. “But while you’re here, I do have a question for you,” I said.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Any word on what happened to my wife’s car?”

“Yes,” he said. “It appears her car was sabotaged. We found partial fingerprints that appear to be de Blasio’s. We also found what looked like part of a remote control device and her brakes had been tampered with.”

“So, it definitely wasn’t an accident?”

“No, it appears to be attempted murder. My guess is Wheeler wanted her out of the way. We’re still putting the pieces together, so we don’t have the complete story,” he said. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you stayed in the area. I may have some questions for you later.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Detective,” I said. “I have a job and my wife is still in a coma.”

“Of course,” he said before leaving. “If you think of anything that might help, please give me a call.”

“You got it, Detective,” I said, extending my hand. He accepted it and I felt the now-familiar spark that let me know his memories were being downloaded into my mind. I was curious to see how much of a suspect he thought I was. “Sorry, lots of static electricity in this carpet,” I said when I released his hand. He rubbed his hand and nodded his head before he left.

When I downloaded his memories into the application, I did a quick scan. Yes, he did consider me a suspect in Wheeler’s disappearance, but as I suspected, he had absolutely no evidence to back it up. He didn’t have a body nor did he have any DNA, something that irritated him considerably.

He was counting on me to slip up and say or do something that would put him back on my trail. Failing that, it would become a cold case, which irritated him further. I realized I would have to be extremely careful from here on out. I watched an encounter between him and his lieutenant.

“How are you coming on that Wheeler case, Jason?” the uniformed lieutenant asked. Black shook his head as he sat down.

“Coming up empty, Lt,” he said. “All we have is his car and a vehicle belonging to one of his goons, but there’s absolutely no forensic evidence to indicate any of them were ever in the park. We’ve had uniforms with dogs go over every inch of that park, and haven’t found a damn thing. No blood, no pieces of clothing, nothing. Even went over it with ground-penetrating radar. Still nothing.”

“What does your gut tell you?” the lieutenant asked.

“My gut tells me the husband — Drake — is involved up to his eyeballs. He certainly had motive, and he had the opportunity. Plus there’s that call Wheeler’s date told me about.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I plan to follow up with Drake this evening,” Jason said. “Maybe I can get something from him. If not, hell, I don’t know. Maybe aliens abducted them or something,” he added with a chuckle. I couldn’t help but chuckle myself at his last statement. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

“Yeah, that’ll certainly get you that early retirement you’ve been talking about,” the lieutenant said with a smile. Jason laughed as he stood up and prepared to leave. “Let me know how it goes, okay?”

“Will do, lieutenant,” Jason said. I ended the playback and sat back, somewhat relieved.

Feeling a bit better about the situation with Wheeler, I took both Lucy and Judy — the nurses who cared for me in the hospital — out to dinner. Yes, there were two different nurses, and I took them out on separate dates. I heard from quite a few of you earlier asking about that. They worked different shifts and I didn’t see Judy anywhere near as much as I did Lucy.

Our dates were nice, but mostly uneventful. We had a good time and enjoyed each other’s company, but both ladies told me right up front they weren’t interested in a physical relationship with a married man. My respect for both of them increased significantly upon hearing that.

I’ve been out with both of them a few times since, but nothing romantic ever happened. At this point, we’re a bit more than acquaintances, but a lot less than lovers, or even “friends with benefits.” If I had to describe my relationships with them, I would say that at this time, we’re more like siblings than anything else.

I spent a lot of time over those three months going through Ginger’s memories. Thanks to the accessories Smith and Jones provided, I was able to listen in on her thoughts as I watched the video playback and that helped give some context to her actions.

From her thoughts I could tell that while she responded to what was done to her, she hated what she was forced to do. But that didn’t ease the pain I felt as she fucked our marriage down the drain. If she hated it so much, she should’ve come to me at the beginning.

And yes, they plied her with various drugs and threatened to make her actions public if she didn’t go along with their program. They used her and abused her, and had a damn good time doing it. More than once, they laughed as they left her covered in semen, crying her eyes out. I wanted to kill the bastards for doing this to her — slowly and as painfully as possible.

She handled it by taking it out on me. Instead of coming to me for help, she pushed me away and became an unbearable shrew. Apparently, that became her defense mechanism. It started to change, however, not long before her “accident.”

I learned from Smith and Jones that I could actually perform a search on her memories. So I did. I figured there was a chance she could’ve either gotten pregnant or contracted a disease. I had a pretty good idea that she hadn’t gotten an STD as I had myself tested shortly after learning of her infidelity, and her memories revealed that Chad had her frequently tested.

As it turned out, she had gotten pregnant, and was forced to get an abortion. I found the memory and watched as she entered Chad’s office.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Chad, I’m pregnant,” she said.

“So, deal with it,” he told her.

“What do you mean, deal with it?”

“Just what I said. Deal with it. Take care of it. There’s clinics that handle that sort of thing. Our insurance will cover it.”

“It could be Cameron’s child,” she said.

“So what? Get rid of it,” he told her.

“I can’t do that,” she said.

“You WILL do it, and you’ll have it done before the next board meeting. Unless, of course, you want your wimpy husband to find out what kind of a slut you really are.”

“You bastard,” she hissed. “I fucking HATE you!” He chuckled as he looked at her.

“I really don’t give a shit,” he said with a smirk. “Get that taken care of, the sooner the better,” he added, pointing at her stomach. “If you need an extra incentive, try this. You either get rid of it, or Antonio will have a 45-caliber visit with your husband. Understand?”

“You’d really kill my husband if I don’t get an abortion?” she asked, shocked.

“I wouldn’t. But Antonio would,” he said with a wicked grin. “In a New York minute. Think of it as a life for a life. One lives, the other dies. Next time, be more careful with your birth control.” Ginger crumpled where she stood and sobbed. Chad let her cry for a while, then ordered her to get out.

“Get out of here and clean yourself up. I have work to do,” he told her. She left the room in tears and at that point, I realized I had been far too easy on him. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She had the procedure done a couple days later and went into a bit of a depression afterward. I remembered that time and recalled how out of sorts she was. I tried talking to her, but she rebuffed all my efforts, finally telling me to leave her “the fuck” alone. I learned from her memories that she did it thinking she was saving my life. She actually contemplated suicide and was set to do it, but changed her mind.

A part of me was glad she didn’t kill herself, but there was another part of me that wished she had gone through with it. I felt a pressure in my head and knew if I didn’t get away from this I would explode in a fit of rage. I went on the balcony and counted backwards from 100. I finally calmed down when I hit 25 and went back to her memories. After calming down, it hit me that maybe she was as conflicted and confused then as I was at that point in time.

Some time after she contemplated suicide, Chad talked to her about her attitude.

“I know you’re in a bit of a funk over the abortion, but you need to get over it,” he said coldly. “Women have abortions all the time and they deal with it. We have a meeting with some clients this afternoon, and I need for you to be at your best. Now, snap out of it and get your shit squared away. Understand?”

“I understand,” she said quietly. I looked at the date and realized it was the day I saw her in his car.

I switched from her memories to his and began looking through them. I wasn’t surprised to learn that he had done the same thing with several other women over the years. All of them were married, and from what I could tell in his memories, all of them ended up divorced.

The men he cuckolded tried going after him, but they all failed, and a couple of them ended up in the hospital after his goons worked them over. Ginger was just his last victim. He was gone now, literally, but there were others who had to pay the price for what was done to Ginger and to our marriage.

One thing kept coming back to me, though. I remembered Ginger’s thoughts when I was first in the hospital. She seemed exuberant at the thought of Chad screwing her in our marital bed — a bed I replaced almost immediately after her accident. Yet, she also seemed to hate him at the same time. This didn’t make any sense to me, so I sought counsel from some marriage counselors, hoping they could give me some insight.

They all pretty much told me the same thing — that without talking to Ginger they really couldn’t help me much. But, they all said, it would be very possible for her to hate Chad yet enjoy the physical act of sex with him. One counselor suggested I simply try to get over that and move on. Another asked the age-old question: “Would you be happier with her or without her?”

“Frankly, doc, I really don’t know at this point,” I said. I later asked Smith and Jones about it. Smith brought up the memory, then used a keystroke combination I wasn’t aware existed — Ctrl-Alt-Shift-E. Another window popped up, showing a number of irregular lines that moved up and down.

“The application not only stores memories, it also stores thoughts and the emotional state of the target at the time,” Smith said. “Looking at this, it seems your wife was extremely confused. In your vernacular, she was so mixed up, she couldn’t tell up from down. Yes, she hated Wheeler, hated what he did to her and what he made her do. But she enjoyed the physical stimulation he gave her. Don’t ask me to explain it. She even hated you a bit for not rescuing her.”

“But I had no idea this was going on,” I said. “She never said anything.” Smith shrugged his shoulders.

“The problem, Cameron, is that you are trying to use logic to understand an illogical situation,” he said. “You are thinking logically, which is good. But emotions have their own logic and the two are different. Our people still have emotions, since we still have physical bodies, but we are more disciplined in dealing with them.”

“In our studies of human emotions, and how some humans let their emotions rule them, we see that most humans live with contradictions all the time. Your mate’s subconscious desire for you to save her, co-existed with and conflicted with her desire for you to save yourself when she tried to drive you away,” Jones added.

“You have similar but much lesser tensions when you wish to speed in your vehicle, but also wish to avoid a ticket. The disciplined and rational mind makes a choice and lives with the consequences of that choice. The undisciplined mind, however, weaves randomly back and forth between possible choices. We are assisting you in the disciplining of your enhanced mind. Whether you know it or not, yours truly is a superior intellect as compared to the other beings native to this planet. You will still have human emotions, but you will consciously choose how you act on them. Does this make sense to you?”

“Not completely, but I’m sure it will,” I said.

After they left, I went back over her final memories and tried the keystroke combination. I found that her emotional state had significantly changed from what it was before. I used the headset and focused on her final thoughts just before and after the accident.

“Cam, I swear to God, I am going to make this up to you,” she thought. “I promise I’ll be the best wife ever. I just hope you can forgive me.” Her final thoughts after the accident were of me. “Please, Cam, forgive me. I love you. I’m so, so terribly sorry…”

I was brought back to reality by the sound of her doctor’s voice.

“Mr. Drake, I’m glad to see you here,” Dr. Samuels said. “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk with you.”

“Sure,” I said, standing up. I followed him to his office and sat in a chair in front of his desk. He closed his door and took his seat.

“So, what can I do for you, doc?” I asked. He looked at me, then consulted his charts before speaking.

“I Just wanted to update you on your wife’s status. It would help if you spent more time with her, Mr. Drake,” he said. “I know you come by every day and spend a few minutes with her, and that’s good. But in my opinion, you need to spend even more time with her. Talk to her. Touch her. Let her know you care. That will help a great deal.” He saw the hesitation in my face and continued.

“Just out of curiosity, how were things in your marriage when she had her accident?” he asked.

“Not good,” I said. I hadn’t said anything to him about our marriage simply because I felt it was none of his business. “In fact, I was close to filing for divorce.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I’m a doctor, not a marriage counselor. My first priority is getting her back on her feet.”

“I understand,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Her condition is getting worse. I’m concerned that she may be losing her will to live. You need to set your problems aside and think about her.” He pulled a photo out of her folder and set it in front of me. I could see the outline of her brain with part of it showing green.

“This was her brain activity two weeks ago,” he said. He put another photo down next to it. There was less green in this one than the previous one. “That was two days ago.” I shook my head, not understanding the meaning of the photographs.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I’ve been told there’s no change.”

“There’s no improvement,” he said. “There has been some change, however. And it’s not good. I’m afraid she’s slipping into a persistent vegetative state. She needs more positive interaction. Preferably from you.”

“I was told she’s healthy and stable,” I said.

“Physically, yes,” Dr. Samuels said. “Mentally, I’m afraid she’s slipping. Tell me, Mr. Drake, have you even told her you love her since she went into her coma?”

I considered what he said, and realized that he was right. Yeah, I had been by every day to see her, but I hardly ever said more than a few words to her. And not once have I ever told her that I love her. Perhaps that’s because I’m really not sure how I feel about her right now. If it wasn’t for the accident, chances are I would have filed divorce papers against her.

“No, I haven’t,” I told him. He leaned back in his chair and studied me before speaking again.

“Studies have shown that patients in a coma respond more positively to familiar voices — family members, close friends, loved ones. In fact, Mr. Drake, hearing those voices several times a day can help speed recovery and exercise parts of the brain responsible for long-term memories. Here’s something I’d like you to try,” he said.

“Tell her some stories about your life together. Preferably good, happy stories. Your honeymoon, for example. Or maybe a good date you shared or a trip that she really enjoyed. Record those stories on a digital audio recorder. Tell her how much you loved her and how much she meant to you. Have other family members do the same thing. We can let her hear those stories through headphones and loop them so she hears them multiple times a day. When you come by, give her positive feedback. Can you put your feelings aside long enough to do that?”

“I think so,” I told him.

“Good,” he said. “Do this for her, alright?” I nodded my head.

“Yeah, I will,” I said. I left the hospital and went home, stopping on the way to purchase a good digital audio recorder. I was torn. Yes, I wanted her to burn for what she had done, but I also wanted her to recover. Right now, I felt like everything was in limbo. I wolfed down a microwave dinner, washed it down with a cold beer and sat back to watch some television.

I did as the doctor suggested and recorded a few stories recalling our wedding, our honeymoon and some of the more memorable trips we shared. I even called her mother, who had retired to Florida, and got her to email audio recordings of memories when Ginger was a child. I put them all on the digital recorder and found there was about two hours of audio on the unit.

I took the recorder and a set of headphones to the hospital and one of the nurses put it on her head, then set the recorder to play in a continuous loop. Before she started the unit, I got close to Ginger and whispered in her ear.

“Get well soon, Ginger,” I said. “Your family misses you.” I gave her a kiss, and motioned for the nurse to turn the device on. I watched her for a few minutes and thought I saw a tear forming in a corner of her eye.

“We’ll give this six weeks and see how she responds,” Dr. Samuels said. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome, doc,” I said before leaving.

Smith and Jones came by later that night and put me through my paces. Between them and the workout I was getting at the dojo, I was becoming a new man in more ways than one. My muscles were tightening up, I was getting a lot stronger and I was developing a whole new outlook on life.

Moreover, I was learning to control and fine-tune my abilities. No, I wasn’t turning into some kind of “Superman” and bullets didn’t bounce off my eyeballs. In that regard, I was just as vulnerable to injury as anyone else, and no, I didn’t expect to don a cape and start flying.

A couple weeks later, I was in the office of Georgia Hamilton, The HR manager at the company Ginger worked for, going over some paperwork. By now, she had used up all of her vacation and sick time and only had a few days of comp time left on the books.

The company had agreed to put her on a paid extended leave for medical reasons so she could still draw her paycheck and have medical coverage. There was simply no way I could handle her hospital bills and the normal monthly stuff on my salary alone.

As we talked, I noticed a somewhat older man with graying hair talking to one of the other girls in the office. He looked at me intensely a few times as the girl spoke to him. I recognized him from some of the pictures on the wall — Jackson H. Peabody IV, the CEO.

I wondered what he was thinking and why he seemed so interested in me. I tried reaching out to his mind, but for some reason, found that I couldn’t read anything from him. That was odd, I thought. I looked at him closer and realized that he was completely in focus. I had expected he would display some of the anaglyph characteristics I had seen in many of the other upper-level managers, but he didn’t.

He stood and looked at me directly, his brows furrowed. I wondered what he was thinking. We stared at each other for a few moments, then he nodded his head slightly and left the office. I didn’t think anything more of the encounter and completed my work with Georgia.

I was just finishing my dinner that night, when I heard the doorbell. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and wondered who it could be. I looked through the peephole and saw Peabody. What did he want, I asked myself. I tried again to read his thoughts, but was unable to.

“Mr. Peabody, I presume?” I said after I opened the door.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. I noticed a tiny gold speck in one of his eyes and wondered if he had encountered Smith and Jones. “And you must be Ginger Drake’s husband.”

“Guilty as charged, at least for the time being,” I told him. “Please come inside.”

“Thank you, Mr. Drake,” he said, stepping in my living room.

“Please, have a seat. I’m afraid all I have to offer is water and coffee,” I told him.

“Coffee would be perfect, Mr. Drake. Thank you. I take it black, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I went into the kitchen and poured us each a cup of hot coffee, black, and brought the cups back into the living room. I handed him one cup and watched as he took a tentative sip. He nodded his head in approval and set it on one of the coasters I kept on the coffee table.

“So, Mr. Peabody, what can I do for you?”

“First off, you can drop the ‘Mr. Peabody’ shit,” he said, smiling. “My name’s Jack.”

“Alright Jack,” I said. “And you can call me Cameron.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Cameron,” he said. “Tell me, how is Ginger doing?”

“She’s not improving, but we’re trying something the doctor hopes will help stimulate her brain,” I said.

“I see,” he said. “I saw you in the office with Georgia today and just wanted to stop by to let you know her paid extended medical leave has been approved. We’ll re-evaluate in six months to see how she’s doing.”

“Thank you for that,” I said. “Look, Jack, excuse me for being direct. I’m just a simple man but I find it hard to believe you came all the way from your Manchester Heights mansion to tell me that, though. You could’ve had Georgia send me an email.”

“That’s alright, son. I appreciate candor. And you’re right — I could’ve had Georgia send you an email. But you’re not right about something else. You may be many things, but you’re hardly a simple man,” he said. “If you can indulge an old man for a few minutes, I’d like to tell you a little story.”

“Of course, Jack,” I said.

“My great-grandfather started the company back around the turn of the 20^th century. Saw it through the Great Depression and later handed it off to my grandfather. He, in turn, passed it down to my father, who later handed it to me,” Jack said. “Unfortunately, there’s not a Jackson H. Peabody V to pass it down to. Unless my daughter accepts the reins, I’ll be the last of the Peabodys running the company.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“In a way, I’m not,” he told me. “You see, other than myself and maybe one or two others, everyone in the upper echelon is filthy dirty. That includes the Board of Directors. Unfortunately, I’m in no shape to deal with the situation. Legally, or in any other way.

“You see, my position as CEO is just window dressing. I’m little more than a figurehead. A rich figurehead, but a figurehead nevertheless. And one who is hamstrung by a rather odious contract my father was forced to sign before he retired. And before you ask, yes, I’ve had the best legal minds in the country go over it with a fine-toothed comb and they all tell me it’s legally binding, at least for the next ten years. Or as long as the current board is seated.”

“I’m not a lawyer, so I can’t help you there,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “But you can help me clean my company up before I retire. Or die.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Jack,” I said. “What makes you think I can do that?” He smiled before speaking.

“This is where my story gets a bit… unbelievable, Cameron. I hope you’ll hear me out before you decide I’m a madman,” he said.

“Go on, Jack, please,” I said. He nodded his head and took a sip of coffee.

“Alright. About eight years ago I was on a hunting expedition with some colleagues. I was walking back to the camp when I was suddenly surrounded by a strange green light. It didn’t hurt and only lasted for a few seconds. I thought maybe it was a light from a patrol helicopter, but I didn’t hear anything overhead.

“A couple days later, I was shaving and noticed a strange gold speck in my eye. I thought it was odd, but didn’t think anything more of it. Then I started hearing things. Weird things. I realized I was hearing other people’s thoughts. Being a businessman always on the lookout for an edge, I used that to help my bottom line.

“But I also heard other things. Bad things. Shameful things. From my wife and from members of my own board of directors. Dad warned me about some of the board members being snakes in the grass, but I didn’t know just how bad things really were until then. Of course I already knew about the contract my father was forced to sign, but now I knew the whole back story.

“I did what I could to stymie the board, but I always fell short. It seemed they somehow found out what I was doing in advance. Then I eavesdropped on my wife. And that’s when I learned the full nature of their duplicity.”

“Was she cheating on you?” I asked.

“Was she ever,” he said. “With many members of the board, along with some of my upper echelon staff. And she brought my daughter in on it.”

“Why not divorce her?” I asked him.

“Turns out she comes from a family more wealthy than mine, mostly high-end lawyers. Her father had me sign an ironclad pre-nuptial before we got married. He made it very clear to me that if I ever tried to divorce his little girl, he would destroy me, my business and anyone associated with me. And believe me, he’s powerful enough to make it happen,” Jack said.

“Damn,” I said.

“You got that right,” he said. “Oh, I tried to put a stop to things, but it didn’t work. Since then I’ve had two heart attacks and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms the third will most certainly be fatal.”

“I take it the doctor isn’t the one who told you that,” I said.

“That’s right,” he said.

“You’re talking murder here, Jack,” I said. He nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I also take it you know about Ginger and her involvement with Chad Wheeler and the board,” I said.

“I had a pretty good idea what was going on, yes,” he said. “And before you ask, I did remind Wheeler of company policy regarding sexual harassment. He laughed in my face, gave me a quarter and told me to call someone who gives a shit. I know I should have warned you about what was going on, but I simply wasn’t able to. They watch my every move. Believe me, I am truly very sorry.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ve had my own suspicions for a while, but I wasn’t able to verify anything until shortly before my own encounter with lightning,” I said. “So, do you still hear thoughts these days?”

“No, not for some time,” he said. “But I still get… impressions from people. Sometimes it’s like an image that flashes in my mind. Like the one I got from you earlier today when you were with Georgia. You do know what happened to Chad Wheeler, don’t you?” I looked at him and scanned him for recording devices before saying anything. It was a trick Smith and Jones had taught me not long ago. Finding none, I continued.

“Let’s just say Wheeler’s body will never be found,” I said.

“My God,” he said. “You killed him?”

“No. Technically, he killed himself. But I’ve been informed that his DNA will never be found. Tell me, Jack, how have things been since Ginger’s accident?”

“Hectic,” he said. “It got even worse after Wheeler’s disappearance. The whole board is up in arms. They don’t know what to make of it.”

“Has Wheeler been replaced?”

“Yes, he was replaced a week or so after he was reported missing. The Chairman put in someone who’s even worse than Wheeler if you can imagine that.”

“I can,” I said. “So, where do things stand now?”

“They’re still watching me, following me. A couple of them followed me over here, as a matter of fact. No doubt, I’ll get asked about it tomorrow or the next day.”

“They follow you everywhere?” I asked.

“Pretty much. Hell, I can’t go to the can without someone taking notes,” he said.

“So, what do you want from me?” I asked.

“I want to offer you a job,” he said.

“I already have a job,” I said. “And I know nothing about finances or the stock market or whatever it is you do.” He chuckled at that.

“No, I want you to help me clean up my company. I have a feeling I’m not going to be around much longer and I want to go to my grave with a clear conscience. Someone will take over my company, Cameron, and I want the slate cleaned before that happens.”

“What makes you think I can do what you want?” I asked.

“Let’s just say I get a good impression from you, Cameron,” he said. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He pulled two envelopes out of his jacket pocket and handed them to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“The first envelope is a small retainer. A sign-on bonus, if you will. You’ll get that on a weekly basis if you decide to take this job. There’ll be a nice bonus once the work is complete. The second envelope contains a passbook for an off-shore account. In that account, you’ll find there are enough funds to take care of Ginger for the rest of her life if necessary. You can keep that regardless of how the job goes. I feel somewhat responsible for what happened to her. Go ahead, open them up and take a look.”

I opened the first envelope and found a check for $9,000.00 — just a thousand short of the amount that would trigger a bank transaction report. I looked at the amount in the passbook and nearly fell on the floor. The account currently held $100 million.

Ginger’s hospital stay was costing about $2,000 a day, and even though our insurance companies paid the vast majority of it, we still had to put out deductibles and out-of-pocket expenses. There was more than enough here to completely wipe out any debt her hospital stay would incur. I looked at him, shocked.

“Don’t worry, Cameron. I’m worth over two billion dollars. It’s only money, and you can’t take it with you when you go. Besides, I owe it to both of you. If you need more, just say the word. I’ll also handle any expenses you might incur,” he said.

“What do you want done with the bad guys?” I asked.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” he said.

“I’ll need to take my vacation time. I have three weeks on the books,” I said. “This isn’t something I can do part-time.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “That’s not a problem.”

“So, is there a contract you want me to sign or something?” I asked. He smiled as he shook his head.

“No, Cameron, there’s not,” he said. “My grandfather was a big believer in a man’s word being his bond. Let’s just shake hands, okay?” He held out his hand and I took it. I felt no spark of energy, which was odd. He smiled as we shook hands.

I scoured his mind and found he had opened it enough to let me know he was serious about this. I got the feeling he was keeping something back, but I understood, as I had done the same with him. After we shook hands, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Call me any time you need to, Cameron,” he said. “There’s a board meeting coming up in a few days. I’d like you to join me if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I said. “Just send me the particulars.” I wrote down my email address and handed the slip of paper to him. He nodded his head as he slipped it in his pocket.

“Well, I’d better get back. My minders are probably getting a bit nervous.”

“Let me walk you to your car, Jack,” I said. “It’s getting dark and I’d like to take a look at these minders of yours.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” he said. We left the condo and I walked with him to his Bentley. I saw a small sedan parked across the lot that I hadn’t seen before. I made a note of the license plate and saw there were two men in the car.

“Is that them?” I asked. He looked and nodded his head.

“Yeah, that’s them,” he said. I looked around and an evil idea formed in my mind.

“Okay, I’ll take care of them,” I said.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” I said with a wicked smile.

“Alright, if you say so,” he said as he got in his car. He fired up his car and backed out, then headed for the entrance to the complex. The sedan started up and backed out as well. I got a good look at the two men inside and even smiled and waved as they went past. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and slammed head on into the concrete base of a light fixture in the grassy area next to my building.

I imagined the driver putting the car in reverse, backing up a bit, then ramming the large concrete block again at full speed. The driver did just as I imagined. Then he did it again. And again. Finally, the car sputtered and died as the front end was completely destroyed, spewing hot liquid all over the grass.

The two men got out of the car, but I wasn’t finished with them just yet. As I looked, the men dropped their trousers and pulled their underwear down. Grabbing their tiny pricks, they began masturbating. I heard them shout as they pumped their dicks.

“What the fuck!” one of them said.

“Why are we doing this?” the other one asked.

“Beats the fuck outta me,” the first man said.

“Goddammit, I can’t stop!”

“Shit, neither can I. Oh fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Yeah, me too.” Both of them spewed at the same time, their stuff dripping off the back of the car.

By now, people were looking out their windows at the two men masturbating behind a smashed car. I could see a couple of them on their phones, and more than one of them were taking video of the spectacle. I was about to call 911 when I saw two police cruisers with flashing lights come into the complex.

Four police officers jumped out and grabbed the two men, ordering them to stop masturbating.

“I’d love to, officer, but I can’t. Swear to God,” the first man said.

“Neither can I,” the second man said. The officers wrestled the men to the ground and cuffed them before dragging them to the cruisers. One officer called for a wrecking truck as another walked around, talking to the other residents. Finally, the officer came to me.

“Did you see what happened here, sir?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, I saw the whole thing,” I said. “They were heading out, then drove onto the grassy area there and slammed into that light fixture, backed up and did it about three more times, then got out, stripped down and started jacking off. Damnedest thing I ever saw. I thought maybe they were on drugs or something.”

“Do you know who those men are? Do they live here?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Never seen ’em before, officer. I don’t think they live here,” I said.

“Alright, sir, thank you for your time. Sorry about the disturbance. Have a good evening,” he said as he walked away. The incident made the last news that night.

“Police say officers detained two men who repeatedly rammed their vehicle into a concrete light post at Eden Meadows earlier this evening,” the anchor said. “After ramming their vehicle, the men got out of the car, disrobed and began masturbating. According to officers, the men were instructed to stop, but they claimed they were simply unable to. Both men are currently being held for psychological evaluation at a county mental health facility.”

I was still laughing when my phone rang a couple minutes later. It was Jack.

“You see the news just now?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” I said.

“You have anything to do with that?”

“Well…”

“I thought so,” he said, interrupting me. “At any rate, however you did it, I thank you.”

“My pleasure, Jack,” I said.

“I’ll be in touch, Cameron. Have a good evening,” he said before we ended the call. The next day, I put in for three weeks vacation. I explained to Ryan, my boss, that I had a lot of things to take care of regarding Ginger’s treatment. He didn’t like that I would be gone for so long, but he relented and let me have the time.

On my way home that evening, I stopped to see how Ginger was doing. I was told that she had started to respond to the audio I had provided earlier, but it was still far too early to tell if she was going to wake up. I sat with her and held her hand.

I talked about the day’s events and told her about what happened the previous night. I was torn about what to do about her. On one hand, I was still very angry over what she had done, but another part of me still loved her. After a while, I kissed her on the forehead and told her to get well, then left her room. I got a call from Jack that evening after I returned home from my session at the dojo.

“Can you be at my office tomorrow at 9:00 am?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “In fact, tomorrow is my first full day of vacation. I’ll have three weeks off.”

“Good,” he said. “Just come on up to my office and I’ll fill you in on what to expect. Oh, and please wear a suit and a tie.”

“Of course,” I said before ending the call. The next day, I dressed in a suit and tie, then headed for Jack’s office, curious to know what he had in store for me. When I got there, his receptionist, Christine, according to the nameplate on her desk, showed me straight in.

“Good to see you, Cameron,” Jack said as he shook my hand. “Right on time. I like punctuality. Have a seat, and I’ll brief you on my plan.” I sat and waited for him to get all his notes together. “We’ll be heading to the conference room here in just a few minutes, so here’s what I want to do. First off, I’m going to introduce you to each of the board members. They’re not going to like that I’m bringing you in, but that’s just too damn bad.

“I plan on having you brief the board on Ginger’s progress. At least, that’s what I’m telling them. My real goal is to give you a chance to know who we’re up against and give you the opportunity to put faces to names,” he said.

“That makes sense,” I said. “Do me a favor, though. Introduce them to me before the meeting and give me a chance to shake their hands.” This would give me a chance to download their memories, but I didn’t tell Jack that. I only hoped I would be able to keep them all separate for the download.

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” he said.

“I do. I’ll explain later.”

“Alright. Just so you know, I also want to make them squirm just a bit,” Jack added. “Let them think the police suspect foul play, and give them the impression Wheeler may have been behind what happened to her.”

“Wheeler was behind it, Jack,” I said. He looked shocked at that.

“And how do you know that?” he asked.

“There’s not enough time to get into it now,” I said. “But I promise you, I’ll fill you in completely. Maybe later today at my place, if that’s alright.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I’ll be there right after the meeting,” he said. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“My God,” he said quietly. “What about the board? Were any of them involved as well?”

“I’m not 100 percent certain at this point,” I said. “But they made it very clear to Wheeler that all loose ends had to be addressed.”

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “And you have evidence of this?”

“I do, but it would never be accepted in a court of law,” I said. “You’ll understand later.”

“I get the feeling there’s a few things you haven’t told me, Cameron,” he said.

“And you would be correct,” I said. “Just trust me, okay?” He nodded his head after a few moments.

“Alright,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Well, we’d better get going.” He stood up and I followed him out of his office and down the hall. At the end of the hall was a set of large double doors. An armed guard standing at the door nodded his head when we approached. Jack opened the doors and I saw 12 people in the room milling about, talking to each other.

They stopped and stared when I came into the room. I looked around and saw all of them displayed the same anaglyph effect I saw with Ginger. I began to get a headache from looking at them all, but I focused my mind the way Smith and Jones taught me and the headache went away. I could hear their thoughts, even from across the room.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Is that really Ginger Drake’s husband?”

“So, this is Ginger’s cuck.” Before any of them could actually say anything, Jack spoke up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ginger Drake’s husband, Cameron,” he said. “I know we’re all concerned about the status of her health so I asked him to come and gives us a quick brief on that and the investigation into her accident.” He went on to introduce me to each of them and I shook their hands, placing my thumb on the spot that would trigger the download of their memories into my brain.

“Alright, shall we commence?” he asked after the introductions were made. They all murmured agreement and sat down. “If there’s no objection, I’ll turn the floor over to Mr. Drake.” There was no objection, but I could tell they were all a bit uncomfortable. “Mr. Drake, the floor is yours,” he said, looking at me.

“Thank you, Mr. Peabody,” I said, still standing. “First off, I want to thank you for your continued support. I know you’re under no obligation, and I appreciate all the company is doing for her.” I saw them nod their heads as if in agreement, but I could tell they were more than concerned about the ongoing cost of keeping Ginger on the payroll while in the hospital. Profits over people, as usual. Just one more reason to make them all pay.

“As you all probably know, Ginger is still in a coma. Physically, she’s doing okay, but the doctors are concerned she may be going into what they call a persistent vegetative state. We’re now working to address that and I’ve been told she’s starting to respond.”

“How long will she be in a coma?” an older man asked. I recognized him as Harold Bergstrom, the Chairman of the Board. He was the one who referred to me in his thoughts as Ginger’s cuckold.

“No one knows for certain,” I said. “It’s impossible to predict how long a person will stay in a coma like this, or so I’ve been told.”

“I understand you approved her extended medical leave, is that right, Jack?” another man asked. I recognized him as Jake Johnson. He was involved in several gang bangs with Ginger.

“Yes, that’s correct, Jake,” Jack said. “As you know, positive employee morale is very important to me. Productivity has improved due to feelings among the team that the company has their backs and cares about them. I’m sure you understand.” I could tell they were a bit uncomfortable but Jack’s statement seemed to mollify them for the time being.

“Of course, Jack,” Jake said.

“Is there anything else?” a woman appearing to be in her 40s asked. I knew her as Sherrie Langford, a relatively new member of the board, but just as dirty as the rest.

“Police suspect foul play was involved in her accident, Ms. Langford,” I said. “A partial fingerprint of an associate of Chad Wheeler was found and they said her brakes had been sabotaged. From what I understand, neither Wheeler nor his associates have yet to be found.” They all looked at each other nervously at that.

“Are you saying someone from this company is responsible for what happened to her?” she asked.

“Possibly. I’m pretty certain Mr. Wheeler was involved, but there’s no conclusive evidence yet. I understand the investigation is ongoing but there aren’t any new leads at this time,” I said. She nodded her head at that.

“Thank God for that,” I heard Bergstrom say in his mind. I looked at him briefly before continuing.

“But there’s always the possibility that something will be found,” I added.

“Well, I thank you for that update, Mr. Drake. Please look after our girl and keep us in the loop,” Bergstrom said. “I can’t wait to get into that pussy again,” he said in his mind.

“I assure you, I will, Mr. Bergstrom,” I said. “And I can also assure you everyone responsible will pay for what’s been done to her.” At that moment, I wanted to make all 12 of their heads explode, but I suppressed the urge. I did, however, focus on Bergstrom’s heart, making it skip a few beats. His face turned red and he grabbed his chest.

“Are you okay, Mr. Bergstrom?” Sherrie asked. “Do you need a doctor?” I released his heart and saw him take a few breaths. He would live, but would probably feel pain in his chest for the rest of the day.

“I’ll be fine,” he gasped, waving his hand. “Just a bit of indigestion. It’ll pass.”

“Will that be all, Mr. Drake?” Jack asked, playing his role like a well-trained actor.

“Yes, for now, Mr. Peabody. Thank you for giving me this time,” I said. He nodded his head.

“You’re welcome, son,” he said with a knowing smile. I took that as my cue to leave and left the room after giving the group one last look. I got to my car, ripped off my tie and headed home. When I got there, I changed into more casual clothes and sat down to my computer.

After booting it up, I donned a headset and downloaded all the memories I had collected that day. It took more than a few minutes for the download to complete, and I watched as the processing began. I figured it would take a while to complete, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and made a sandwich.

It took more than an hour for the processing to complete, but when the application was done, I was presented with an enlarged menu that showed memories from all 12 of the board members. Since Bergstrom was the chairman, I started with him. I had limited time, so I searched his memories for anything dealing with Ginger.

There were quite a few spread out over the time she worked at the company, so I focused on the last seven months before her “accident.” The first showed him and Wheeler discussing who their next target would be.

“Any new prospects, Chad?” he asked.

“Yes, there’s this blonde analyst who looks like she’d be a pretty fun plaything,” Chad said. “Ginger Drake. Take a look.” Bergstrom stood behind Wheeler and looked at Ginger’s photo on Chad’s computer. He nodded his head.

“Nice. Looks like she’s got pretty firm tits and some decent legs,” Bergstrom said. “You tap into that already?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” Chad said. “She’s married, loves her husband, and says she’d never cheat on him, though.”

“Well maybe you need to up the ante a bit, Chad. Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bergstrom said.

“I know, but it’s more fun when they come on their own accord,” Chad said.

“I tend to agree, but there are times when you need to go the extra mile,” Bergstrom told him with a smile. Chad smiled back and nodded his head in agreement.

“I hear ya, boss,” he said.

“Get it done,” Bergstrom said. “Do what you gotta do. I want to see her spread out on the boardroom table, if you know what I mean. Soon.”

“Will do,” Chad said as Bergstrom left. Now I had confirmation — Bergstrom was the one ultimately responsible for what happened to Ginger. I promised to make him pay dearly for what he had done. I had no need to look at any memories of him with Ginger, since I had already viewed some of those encounters in her memories.

I took the headset off and sat back for a moment. Then I had an idea. I connected to Bergstrom’s mind, remotely, to see what he was doing at that moment. When I connected, he was sitting in an office, presumably his, and two people were in the office sitting across from his desk — Jake and Sherrie. Apparently, I thought, the board meeting had concluded by now.

“Sherrie, I want you to call Hammer. I want to know everything there is to find out about this Cameron Drake. Everything! I want to know when he takes a shit, where he goes, who he speaks to and what he does. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Sherrie said, pulling out her cell phone.

“You think he’s gonna be a problem, Mr. Bergstrom?” Jake asked.

“Could be,” Bergstrom said, rubbing his chest. He recalled the pain in his chest and wondered if my presence had something to do with it. I smiled at that. “Also, Jake, get two more of your guys on Peabody. This time, get someone with a functioning brain cell, willya? I don’t want to see any more news stories about our guys jacking off in public.”

“Already done, Mr. B,” he said. “Did that this morning before the meeting. So, why do you think Peabody brought Drake to the meeting today? You think he’s got something going on?”

“I’ve known Jack Peabody for years,” Bergstrom said. “I’d be surprised if he didn’t have something going on.”

“Did you see Drake’s eyes?” Jake asked. “What’s up with that?”

“Yeah, I saw ’em,” Bergstrom said. “I’ve only seen something like that once before. All I can say is we gotta be real careful. No more boardroom parties for a while. Not until we get this mess cleaned up.”

“Any word on Chad, Mr. B?” Jake asked.

“No, none,” Bergstrom said. “Police haven’t got a fuckin’ clue.”

“You think Drake did him in?” Jake asked.

“Either that or he ran off,” Bergstrom said.

“He wouldn’t do that, Mr. B,” Jake said.

“I know. Drake doesn’t look like the type to handle Chad and two of his guys. Know what I mean?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Jake said. “It’s been three months now. Surely the cops would’ve found something out by now. You think maybe we should get a couple guys to, you know, talk to Drake?”

“That may not be such a bad idea,” Bergstrom said. “Let me think about it for a bit first.”

“Okay, Mr. B,” Jake said. Sherrie looked up from her phone.

“Hammer said he’ll get right on it,” she said.

“Good,” Bergstrom said. “I want a report on my desk, ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. I disconnected from his mind when my phone rang. I looked and saw it was Jack, so I answered.

“Good job at the board meeting this morning,” Jack said when I answered. “Are you available right now?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m at home right now, going through some things. I think we need to talk.”

“I think you’re right,” Jack said. “I’m on my way. See you in about a half hour.” We ended the call and I grabbed a small USB drive. Consulting my notes, I copied some files to the drive for Jack, then put on a fresh pot of coffee.

About a half hour later, I stood at my front window and watched as Jack put his Bentley in the guest parking area. A few moments later, I saw an unfamiliar sedan pull into the parking lot and take a space not far from Jack’s car. I shook my head and watched the two men inside the car eyeball Jack as he left his car and came up to my condo. I turned on the jamming device Smith and Jones gave me just in case he was wearing a wire. I opened the door when he rang the bell and invited him inside.

“You got a couple of new shadows,” I told him when he came inside.

“Yeah, I know,” he said.

“I’ll take care of them when you leave. Come on in, have a seat. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on. You want some?”

“Of course,” he said as he sat down. I grabbed us each a cup of coffee and came back to the couch.

“Jack, who’s Hammer?” I asked when I sat down. He looked at me, surprised.

“That would be Thomas Hammer,” he said. “He goes by the nickname, ‘Sledge’ as in ‘Sledge Hammer.’ Thinks it makes him sound like a bad-ass. He’s a private investigator the board likes to use. He’s not above getting his hands dirty, if you know what I mean. Why?”

“Bergstrom put him on me after the board meeting,” I said.

“How do you know that?” he asked, surprised. I considered him for a few minutes before speaking.

“I listened to your story the other day, so I think you deserve to know mine,” I said. “Ginger trusted you, thinks the world of you. So, I hope her trust isn’t misplaced. And I feel you deserve to know what you’re getting for your money.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.” I told him the whole story — how I suspected Ginger of cheating on me, my futile attempts to get evidence, the day I saw her in Wheeler’s car, and my visit with the attorney.

Then I told him what happened to me at the golf course, and the result of what happened. I didn’t tell him about Smith and Jones, nor did I tell him about the book. But I did tell him about my ability to download memories and my ability to hear thoughts and control other people. His eyes were wide when I finished.

“So, you know what happened to Wheeler and his two men,” Jack said. I nodded my head.

“Yes,” I said. “You remember how Bergstrom clutched his chest in the board meeting?”

“I do,” he said. “I thought he was having a heart attack. That was you?”

“It was,” I said. “The heart is an amazing muscle, you know.” He looked at me, shocked. “I could’ve killed him, right there on the spot. I could’ve killed them all with a single thought. Believe me, I wanted to kill them all for what they had done to Ginger.”

“What are you going to do about Ginger?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t know just yet,” I said. “At first I thought she was having an affair and I was ready to divorce her on the spot. I still might divorce her. I don’t know. Thing is, an affair implies consent. But there was no consent on her part. She was deliberately targeted by Bergstrom, set up by Wheeler, threatened, drugged, then used and abused by the whole board and others.

“She hated what they made her do. Hated herself, hated them. She contemplated suicide because of what they did. They even made her kill her baby, making her think she was saving my life by doing so. Then they tried to murder her. So you see, I have to make them pay.

“She did, however, manage to contact someone at the Securities and Exchange Commission, a Trisha Harding. Said she has information the government might find interesting. I found the files she saved on her personal cloud account. Maybe you can make sense of them,” I said, handing him the flash drive.

“Have you looked at them?” he asked.

“I have. They’re mostly spreadsheets. Don’t ask me to explain them,” I said. “I think she wanted to get them to you. Thought you’d do the right thing.”

“Can we take a look at them?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, getting up and walking into my “office.” I sat down and fired up my computer and inserted the flash drive he handed back to me. I pulled up one of the spreadsheets and let him take a look. To me, it was nothing but columns full of numbers. But it obviously meant something to him. His eyes grew wide as he scrolled down through the sheet.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, shocked. I shook my head.

“It’s all Greek to me, Jack,” I said.

“This is a one-way ticket to the big house for every single member of the board,” he said. “Right along with my wife and daughter.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“If what I’m seeing is correct, this indicates they’ve all been embezzling from the company and our clients for years. Little amounts that probably wouldn’t be noticed right away. But over time, they would add up to a hefty sum of money. This Trisha Harding person — do you know if Ginger got this to to her?”

“I believe so,” I told him. “From what I could tell, Ginger had this information sent to her by courier. Harding has tried to contact Ginger multiple times after the accident.”

“Well, I guess I’d better get in touch with this Trisha Harding, then,” he said. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No. Like I said, Jack, none of this makes any sense to me. I’m a computer guy, not an accountant. You WILL do the right thing, won’t you?” He looked at me, shocked that I would question his integrity. Normally, I wouldn’t have to ask, but Jack was the only person whose mind I couldn’t read, perhaps as a result of his encounter with the alien “beam.” I started wondering how many more like Jack were out there…

“Of course, I will, Cameron,” he said. “It’s not just my company on the line here. If I’m reading this right, they intended to make it look as though I’m the one embezzling these funds.”

“Then I suggest you contact this Trisha Harding right now and set up an appointment,” I said. “You can use my phone if you want. Yours is probably bugged.”

“You’re probably right, Cameron,” he said. “Do you have a number for her?”

“Actually, I do,” I said. I got it from a burner phone Ginger had in her purse. It was the only number she called. I gave it to Jack and handed him my phone after unlocking it. He took my phone and dialed the number, then turned on the speaker.

“Harding,” a woman’s voice said when she answered it. “Mrs. Drake, is this you? Are you out of the hospital?”

“No, it’s Jackson Peabody, her CEO,” Jack said. “She’s still in a coma.”

“Mr. Peabody, how did you get this number? Mrs. Drake was the only one who had it.”

“I got it from her husband,” Jack said. “It’s a long and complicated story. I understand you may have gotten some spreadsheets and reports from Mrs. Drake before her accident.”

“Possibly,” she said. “I’ve attempted to contact her several times, and learned of her very convenient accident.”

“I’d like very much to speak with you about that accident and those spreadsheets. Can we meet today?” he asked.

“I’d like that very much,” she said. “I can be available in, say, half an hour. My office. Federal Building, downtown, fifth floor. Just follow the signs.”

“I’ll be there, Ms. Harding,” Jack said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for calling, Mr. Peabody. I look forward to meeting you,” she said before ending the call. I put the phone in my pocket.

“I suggest you get going,” I told him.

“You’re right, Cameron,” he said. “If this pans out, I’ll owe you more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

“Come on, let me walk you to your car. I’ll take care of your shadows,” I said. We left the condo and I escorted him to his car and watched as he pulled out. I deliberately stood in front of the sedan, blocking their way. The driver honked his horn but I had him put the car in park as I walked to his window. He looked at me when I stepped next to him.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way,” he demanded.

“There’s nothing here for you to see,” I said calmly. I saw his eyes change and he looked at his partner.

“Why are we here? There’s nothing here for us to see,” he said.

“In fact, you were never here,” I added. “You know, Joe’s Bar and Grill over on Fifth Street makes the best habanero burgers in town. Guaranteed to set your ass on fire. Why don’t the two of you go over and have one or two?” He looked at his partner.

“You know, why don’t we go over to Joe’s Bar and Grill and grab a habanero burger?” he asked.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” his partner said. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Make sure you have them put on lots of Mad Dog 357 Plutonium No. 9,” I said. The man behind the wheel nodded his head. I remembered reading a web site somewhere that said the stuff comes in at around 9 million Scoville Hotness Units, or SHUs.

By comparison, a Carolina Reaper, one of the hottest peppers on Earth, measures in at 1.5 million SHUs. But this stuff comes with a disclaimer saying it can cause serious injury if directly consumed or applied to the body. I didn’t know if Joe’s had any of that stuff available, but what the hell, I thought.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” the man said. “Thanks, buddy.”

I stepped back and watched as they pulled out. I waved as they drove off, chuckling to myself at the thought of what the rest of their day would be like. Then I saw it — a dark SUV parked across the street. A man wearing a fedora was watching me, taking pictures of me. Thomas Hammer, no doubt. I smiled, waved at him and walked back to my condo.

I shut down my computer, locked everything away and left, setting the alarm as I did so. I drove to the hospital to see Ginger. I wasn’t surprised to see Hammer following me. Let him waste his time, I thought to myself. I’ll take care of him later.

I sat next to Ginger’s bed, holding her hand. I told her about my meeting with Jack and the phone call to Trisha.

“I swear to God, Ginger, I will make those fuckers pay for what they did to you,” I said. I looked up and saw her head turned in my direction, her eyes open. Was she awake? I heard her mind for the first time in over three months.

“C… Cam?” she thought. “Save…”

“It’s me, Ginger,” I said, moving closer to her. “Stay with me. I’m right here.” As I watched, she closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. I searched her mind, but heard nothing. Tears fell down my face as I held her dainty hand. “Please, Ginger, come back to me,” I cried. When I realized she wasn’t going to respond, I went to the nurse’s station and told them what just happened.

“Let me get Dr. Samuels,” the nurse said. I went back to Ginger’s room and waited for the doctor. He came in a few minutes later and looked her over as I told him what happened. Of course, I didn’t tell him about hearing her thoughts.

“That’s a very good sign, Mr. Drake,” he said. “That means she’s responding to our efforts. Keep talking to her. Maybe you can make some more recordings for her.”

“But her eyes were wide open,” I said.

“Yes, that’s not uncommon,” he said. “It could be that she recognized your voice from the recordings. I’ll order some tests and we’ll continue doing what we’ve been doing. Just keep talking to her. Give her some hope.” I nodded my head as he walked out. I sat with her for a while longer, holding her hand as I talked to her. Then I had an idea.

“Ginger, I know what Bergstrom did to you. I know what they all did to you. I know… everything. I wished you had told me from the beginning, but I understand why you didn’t. We still have some things to work out, but I want you to know that I love you and I will not give up on you. Wheeler is gone — for good. And the rest will pay for what they did. Trust me on that. Just come back to me, please.” I kissed her forehead and sat back. The nurses came in to wheel her away and I took that as my cue to leave.

I saw Hammer sitting in the hospital coffee shop on the first floor and walked in. After buying a caramel mocha, I went to his table and sat down. He looked at me, surprised.

“Hammer, isn’t it?” I asked. “Thomas ‘Sledge’ Hammer?”

“What’s it to ya?” he asked.

“Bergstrom hired you to follow me, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly. “Let me drink my coffee in peace.” I exercised my eye muscles the way Smith and Jones taught me, making my eyes flash red. At the same time, I made his brain swell just enough to give him a massive headache. He grabbed his head in pain and his face twisted into a grimace.

“Don’t lie to me, Hammer,” I said calmly. “You don’t do it very well. And don’t even think of pulling your gun,” I added, reading his thoughts. “Not unless you intend to eat a bullet right here in the hospital. You do know this is supposed to be a gun-free zone, right?” I eased up the pressure on his brain and he looked at me, surprised.

“What are you?” he asked.

“A pissed off husband,” I said. “And I’m not in the mood to fuck around. I’m only going to say this once, so you’d better pay attention. I have no beef with you — yet. But if you fuck with me, I swear to God it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked.

“It’s a fucking promise,” I said, focusing my energy on his brain again. He grimaced in pain as his brain swelled up in his head. “Back off. You have no idea what you’re fucking with. Deal?” I extended my hand. He nodded his head and I eased up the pressure on his brain. He reached out and shook my hand, flinching when he felt the slight electric shock. I held his hand for a few seconds until I had his memories in my mind, then let go.

“Tell Bergstrom you have to leave town for another case. There’s some serious shit about to go down and you don’t even want to be around. Understand?” He nodded his head.

“I got it,” he said.

“Good. And trust me, I’ll know if you double-cross me. Don’t ask how. Just accept that I’ll know.” He nodded his head again and I walked away. I sat in my car in the parking lot and watched the door to the hospital. He came out a few minutes later and went to his SUV. I connected to his mind remotely to see what he would do.

He pulled out his phone and called Bergstrom. I heard Bergstrom’s voice as though I was holding the phone.

“Anything to report?” Bergstrom asked.

“No, Mr. Bergstrom, nothing,” Hammer said. “I think your Mr. Drake is just a pissed-off husband trying to deal with what happened to his wife. Basically, he’s a Boy Scout. Listen, I have to head back east for another case. I’m not going to be available for a while.”

“Alright,” Bergstrom said. “Send me your bill, I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bergstrom,” Hammer said, ending the call. “I gotta get the fuck outta here,” Hammer thought to himself. “I need a vacation. Too many wackos around here. Maybe Atlantic City. Yeah, that’s the ticket.” I couldn’t help but smile. I started the car and went home, stopping only to grab something for dinner. Later that afternoon, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello,” I said, answering the call.

“Cameron, it’s Jack. I just wanted to let you know I had a long discussion with Trisha Harding. She suggested I get a burner phone and that’s what I’m using now. Only you and her have the number,” he said.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“They’ve been looking at Bergstrom and his gang for a while now,” Jack said. “The spreadsheets and reports Ginger had are very damaging. They’ve got the FBI involved and a few others.”

“Well, I guess that means it’ll only get pigeon-holed,” I said wryly.

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “I believe they intend to make some arrests pretty soon, from what Trisha said.”

“Yeah, and they’ll probably spend a whole ten seconds behind bars before their lawyers bail them out,” I said.

“We’ll see,” Jack said.

“Yeah, we’ll see alright,” I said, not convinced anything would ever come of it.

“Listen, I’d better go, but I’ll be in touch,” he said. “I owe you big time for this.”

“It’s not over yet,” I said. “Watch your back.”

“I will,” he said. “Talk to you later, Cameron.” We ended the call and I downloaded Hammer’s memories to my computer. They had just finished processing when Smith and Jones came by for their weekly session. After they finished my workout, we sat in the front room.

“You are progressing rather nicely, Cameron,” Smith said.

“I must agree,” Jones said. “We were concerned that your enhanced abilities might cause you to lose your humanity, so to speak.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your brain is functioning at levels far above what was originally intended. It is very possible you could lose your empathy for un-enhanced beings and start to see them as beneath your concern or as objects to be used to further your own agenda,” Smith said. “Your species has a saying that ‘power corrupts’ and you are becoming extremely powerful.

“So far you have avoided becoming what you hate — the evil one who used his power to corrupt your mate. You have not used your new abilities to corrupt anyone. You still seem to operate under a moral code which is very similar to our own, and similar to those your species says it aspires to. It is possible that your mate’s condition and the good beings you have run into along the way are giving you hope, keeping you in synch with your higher motives.”

“Well, thank you for that,” I said. “I have a couple questions for you guys before you go.”

“Oh?” Smith asked.

“Yes,” I said. “First, I was curious to know if you’ve ever hit anyone else with that beam of yours.” They looked at each other for a few seconds, then addressed my question.

“Yes, twice,” Jones said. “The first was about eight of your years ago. The second a couple years after that. Neither subject held their abilities for very long. The first subject is still alive and doing well. In fact, you’ve already met him — Jack Peabody.”

“The second subject didn’t fare as well,” Smith said. “He went crazy. Thought he was some kind of ‘superman’ and stood in front of a speeding train. Needless to say, he didn’t survive the encounter.”

“And other than me, you haven’t used this thing on anyone else?” I asked.

“No, we have not,” Jones said. “We have been given strict orders to dismantle the unit and never use it or anything like it ever again.”

“And we have been ordered to see you through your full transition,” Smith said.

“You mean, this thing isn’t finished with me yet?” I asked.

“No,” Smith said. “You could see changes for years to come.”

“Terrific,” I said sarcastically.

“I detect a hint of sarcasm in your response,” Jones said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said. “So, what else can I look forward to? Or can you not tell me?”

“We cannot say for certain because your DNA is still somewhat in flux,” Smith said.

“I just want my life back,” I said. “Is that ever going to happen?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jones said. “Perhaps it’s time you consider a career change.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are many like you on this planet who simply seek justice. To have wrongs set right. You have the capacity to make that happen,” Smith said. “You just need to learn to control your abilities better and cope with new abilities as they appear. We will see you through that transition, however long it takes. That is our mission now.”

“What about my wife? Is there something I can do to help her? Surely with all these abilities, I can do something.”

“Other than what the doctor has already told you, no. Not at this time,” Jones said. “You aren’t at that stage… yet. But that wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, was it?”

“No,” I said. “Tell me, is it possible to edit a person’s memories? So they don’t remember certain things? Or remember them differently?”

“It is theoretically possible, but has never been successfully attempted,” Smith said. “Not even our scientists have been able to do that. There are too many… variables involved. However, the fact that you thought enough to ask is significant.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because it shows forward thinking on your part,” Jones said.

“I’m an IT guy. That’s part of what we do,” I said.

“Well, ‘eye-tee guy,’ keep thinking. But for now, focus only on what we tell you. Practice. Do your work-outs and your homework. Keep your eyes on the job ahead of you,” Smith said.

“Yes,” Jones said. “There are twelve individuals who need to feel the righteous hand of justice. Are you up to it?”

“I’m up to it,” I said.

“Good,” Smith said. He turned to Jones. “I think we have covered enough ground for one evening.”

“Yes, I agree,” Jones said. “Do your homework, Cameron. We’ll be back.” I nodded my head as they walked out the door. Do my homework. Yeah, right. I was a bit tired of reading and digging through other people’s memories, so I grabbed a beer and sat down in front of the television. I hadn’t even finished the beer before my doorbell rang again. Looking through the peephole, I saw my friend Bill Collins.

He held up a six-pack of beer when I opened the door. I motioned for him to come inside and put the beer in the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple since they already felt cold. I handed one to him and sat down, opening the other.

“So, what brings you by?” I asked.

“Just wanted to drop by and see how you’re doing,” he said. “Any word on Ginger?” He listened quietly as I brought him up to date on what I knew so far.

“Damn,” he said when I finished.

“So, you still think she needs to die?” I asked sarcastically. He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “But the fuckers who did this to her do.” I nodded my head in agreement.

“No argument there,” I said.

“Have you decided what you’re gonna do?” he asked after taking a healthy swig of beer.

“Yeah,” I said. “I have.”

“And…”

“I’m going to take things one day at a time. First, I’m going to see her through this coma. When she’s back on her feet, we’ll deal with it. Right now, I’m inclined to stay with her,” I said. Bill nodded his head.

“You still love her, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do,” I said. “You know, if I had gone with my original gut feeling, I would’ve kicked her ass to the curb without a second’s thought. Things are different, now that I know the whole truth.”

“You still hearing other people’s thoughts?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “And then some.”

“So, what am I thinking right now?” he asked.

“You’re thinking I’m a pussy-whipped romantic fool,” I said with a smile. He laughed at that.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. But if what you’re telling me is the whole truth, I can understand why you’d stick with her. I just don’t understand why they targeted her like that.”